


If You're Lonely, Press Play

by Pixiestick_cc



Series: If You're Lonely Press Play Universe [1]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Post-Canon, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 63,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2657771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two friends find a way to communicate through nearly impossible circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine that what separates Wirt and Beatrice is something similar to different dimensions that possibly can be crossed over. At least that's how I see it to help benefit my story.

Beatrice was looking out the parlor window again, a habit she had picked up in the last few days. Much to her relief, none of the members in her large family commented on this new pastime she indulged in, because they were all too busy rediscovering life back in their original bodies. She too was enjoying the perks of having fingers, toes, and pale pink skin dotted with freckles- freckles she had almost forgotten about when there were blue feathers covering her. But mostly, since using the witch’s scissors to transform herself and her family human again, Beatrice simply wanted to stare out the window.

“Wishing you were a bird again?” The voice that surprised Beatrice, causing her to jump up slightly from the chair she sat in, was being facetious. It was a well-known fact to everyone that this was not true. No one missed eating worms and dirt. Well, maybe her youngest brother did, but he wasn’t the voice of the majority.

Beatrice ignored her mother’s tease and continued to look at the scenery just outside the windowpanes. It was inevitable that this would happen sooner or later. Beatrice knew that someone would finally mention her long periods of gazing, but why did it have to be now? She wasn’t ready to admit anything to anyone. With a sliver of hope pushing against her heart, Beatrice imagined her mother walking away. Maybe if she wished hard enough it would happen.

_Please, please leave me alone._

“Is it that boy? The one from the tree?” Her question was more pointed this time and conveyed a mother’s intuition.

“No,” Beatrice grouchily replied, even though it was a lie.

She hadn’t told her mother, or anyone for that matter, about Wirt and his brother … about what she had gone through with them. But they had briefly met the older sibling of the two boys she had journeyed with and eventually befriended. It was assumed she was the one who had brought _that boy_ to their tree during a snowstorm, although there had never been any outright admission to this assumption held by her family. Beatrice never answered them when they asked, choosing to keep quiet about Wirt and Gregory. Her feelings of loss were very strong and she anticipated that talking about her friends would only make that feeling swell inside her until it became too much to bear. It already felt like it was too much.

Her mother came to stand beside Beatrice's chair, but that stubborn streak she had displayed so well as a child had only grown stronger in Beatrice’s adolescence and she refused to turn away from the window. She didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction. Although, there was a deeper hidden truth that kept her facing forward. It was the truth Beatrice worried was very apparent on her face. The truth she didn’t want her mother to see. That she missed them. She missed _him_.

A gentle hand came to rest upon Beatrice’s shoulder and she did her best to ignore the childish urge to shrug away. “If you ever feel the need to tell me what it is you are thinking of when you stare outside like this then I’ll -”

“I know, I know,” Beatrice rudely cut her off. “You’ll be there to listen.” She waved her hand flippantly at her mother, still refusing to even give her a glance.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed her mother nodding and then slowly the older woman turned to leave, but before she could make a step in the opposite direction, guilt began to worm its way through Beatrice. She wasn’t treating her mother very kindly and that little awakening she had experienced while with the two brothers- realizing how cruel she could be to others- was rearing its head.

She had thrown a rock at a bird for goodness sake. If that wasn’t mean spirited than what was? Certainly the witch who had turned Beatrice into a bird for her cruelty thought that character trait deserved to be cured with a good lesson. Although, becoming the same creature as the one she had tortured wasn’t what had truly transformed her. It had been her new friends. They were the ones that pushed her to see the truth and eventually gave her the courage to change. Swallowing her pride, Beatrice grasped her mother’s arm to keep her from leaving. “I’m-I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to talk about … _that boy_ yet or his brother.”

“Oh, that's right. He did have a brother. Did he ever find him?” her mother inquired with renewed interest.

Beatrice's brow furrowed and a retort telling her mother to stop prying nearly made it out of her mouth, before she realized that would be rude. "If only I’d had more time with them. I miss him. I miss them both,” Beatrice sighed.

Truthfully she had never had very many friends before and it had taken her time with Wirt and Gregory to recognize why. She was rude and bullied others. In fact, she had been unkind to Wirt at first and the regret Beatrice felt for that would probably stay with her forever. But she wasn’t like that anymore. She hoped she wasn’t like that anymore.

“I assume, since we haven’t seen him since that day, he must have gone away. Why don’t you try and write to him?” her mother suggested.

“It’s not that easy,” Beatrice mumbled. Yeah, having him disappear over the wall into a place she couldn’t follow definitely meant there was no way to send letters.

“Well, if you don't want to write to him, then why don’t you write to yourself?”

Beatrice skeptically raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“You can write how you’re feeling in a letter and not send it. Keep the letter. Maybe it will help you feel better if you transfer your emotions out onto paper, instead of keeping them locked up inside.”

What her mother said made sense, but that didn’t stop Beatrice from replying sarcastically, “Okay.”

There was a gentle squeeze on her shoulder from her mother as she replied, “It was only a suggestion.”

“Yeah, go write your beau. I’m sure he wants to hear from you. He must miss you so much.” The voice that had intruded on Beatrice’s very private conversation with her mother was that of her brother. She had so many that it was hard to recognize who was speaking at times, and it forced Beatrice to twist in her seat to see the culprit with a smirk on his freckled face.

“Shut up, you idiot!” She pulled one of her hands up and curled it into a fist, threatening the teasing brother, but he only made kissing noises in response, causing Beatrice to jump from her chair to enact revenge.

Later when she was in her room- sent there as punishment for the bloody nose she had given her brother- Beatrice stared at the piece of paper she had pulled out and laid on her desk. In her hand was a pencil. Her fingers kept bringing the writing tool closer to the paper and then pulling it away at the last second. “What am I so nervous about?” She rolled her eyes at her dithering and then finally managed to write something.

_Dear Wirt,_

_So, how is your dumb face?_

Beatrice quickly crossed out the sentence and crumpled the paper into a ball. Sarcasm didn’t always translate well into written words and even if she wasn’t actually writing Wirt, Beatrice thought she should be kind and also honest, something she hadn’t always been with him. After a few more false starts, Beatrice finally decided to start out her letter being as honest as was possible for her.

_Dear Wirt,_

_I miss you._


	2. Chapter 2

_-Cause you're not resolved_  
_In your heart, you're waiting for me_  
_To improve_  
_Right here_  
_When I'm lonely, I press play-_

_Damon Albarn_

* * *

 

Wirt waited at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. It was close to Thanksgiving and the weather was getting colder in the little northeastern town he had moved to with his mom eight years ago. He was actually surprised that it hadn’t snowed yet. The last of the leaves on the trees had already fallen off and now it was just a waiting game. Waiting for winter. Unfortunately Wirt had forgotten his gloves at home when he left the house. He would have gone back to get them if he didn’t think it would cause him to miss Gregory’s bus.

It was his job most afternoons to pick up his younger brother at the bus stop and walk him home. Where he lived, high school dismissed earlier than elementary and since his parents worked well into the evening, Wirt was tasked with waiting for his brother. It was something he used to protest constantly. Why was it his job to babysit him? Greg was seven and perfectly capable of making the short walk down the block to their house on his own. Although, in hindsight, he knew what a jerk he’d been for even saying that before. Now he had first-hand experience with the trouble a seven year old could actually get into if left to his own devices. Wirt had learned that the hard way, but he tried not to think about what might have happened if he and Beatrice hadn’t found Greg in time to rescue him from the beast. A shiver traveled down his spine that wasn’t a product of the cold.

To distract himself, Wirt brushed his fingers across the hard plastic of the cassette tape taking up space in the same pocket as his right hand. Sara had given it back to him earlier that day at lunch and he sighed at the memory. Who knew that you could pine away for the same girl year after year, only to discover that your idea of that person was much greater than reality? It had ended amicably. They were still friends, just not compatible when it came to dating, which was weird, because before their brief stint as a couple, he couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for him. He’d chalk it up to a life lesson. Your expectations didn’t always match up with reality. That phrase would be written inside his journal later that night along with some lines of poetry. Even if it really hadn’t bothered him all that much when Sara brought up the subject of being just friends, because honestly he’d been thinking the same, Wirt figured there was probably some teenage angst inside him to work out through verse. It would be embarrassingly sappy poetry that he’d never show anyone and Wirt involuntary blushed at the thought of someone actually reading the words he penned on a nearly daily basis.

With a glance around at the few adults standing near him waiting for their kids, Wirt pulled the hood of his jacket further over his head to cover the blush he could feel spreading on his face and sighed softly in relief at the sight of Greg’s bus coming down the road. When his brother came bouncing down its steps a few seconds later, the two grasped hands for the short walk home.

“How was school?” Wirt asked.

“Oh, you know how it is,” his brother replied in a no nonsense kind of way, causing Wirt to chuckle

“Well, not really. It’s been about nine years since I was in first grade, so I might need a reminder.”

Greg went through a list of things that sounded very common for someone his brother’s age to be doing at school and then some not so common things that Wirt figured were exaggerations of the truth sprung from his brother’s active imagination. “And then I went to art and the teacher told us we had to draw a turkey, because Thanksgiving is next week, but I decided to draw Beatrice, because she’s a bird just like a turkey. I got in trouble, but I thought Beatrice was prettier and I didn’t care what Miss March told me to do. If she knew Beatrice she would want me to draw her instead of a dumb turkey.” Greg stopped walking and removing his hand from Wirt’s, he pulled the drawing he was referring to from his backpack. “See, isn’t it better than a turkey? Do you think Beatrice will like it?”

“Sure, Greg. If Beatrice could see it she would think it was nice.” Wirt humored his brother, knowing that he had no idea what Beatrice would think and had no way of finding out either. Although, he liked to imagine that she’d appreciate the portrait Greg had drawn of her.

“Can we go and give it to her?”

And there it was. Wirt had been expecting it … the inevitable plea from Greg to visit Beatrice. It had been nearly a month since the two of them had parted ways with her, and no matter how many times he told his little brother that it was impossible to visit anyone they had met on their little _journey_ over the garden wall, he still continued to ask. “I-I don’t think that’s possible, Greg. Why don’t we just put it on the fridge when we get home?”

Gregory’s face fell and he tucked the picture into his backpack again. Usually he argued and came up with some absurd idea on how they could get back to her, but this time it was as if the realization finally struck him. For some reason this bothered Wirt more than the near constant begging. Greg was always so hopeful, never accepting that he couldn’t accomplish the impossible and the image of the opposite was similar to seeing the light leaving his brother’s eyes. It reminded Wirt of being in the forest with the Beast and he didn’t like that memory at all. “Hey, Greg. I think I have an idea on how we can get your picture to Beatrice,” Wirt suddenly said and Greg lit up instantly.

“Really?” His mouth and eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Yeah,” Wirt replied, knowing full well his idea wouldn’t work, but at least it was something that might give his brother hope. Hope was something he wasn’t willing to see leave Greg. “But we have to hurry to make it back before mom and dad get home.”

Wirt took off running, going at a pace his brother could follow and before long they were at the cemetery in front of the wall where everything had begun. “Go ahead and leave it for her,” Wirt instructed Gregory.

“What, just put it down?” the younger brother asked.

“Yeah, we can’t see Beatrice, but this wall allows us to send stuff to her. Important stuff, and there’s nothing more important than your drawing of her.” Wirt tried his best to sound convincing even though he was lying through his teeth.

Luckily for him, Greg was as gullible as your typical seven year old and he laid his art down against the wall. “What about you? Why don’t you have anything for Beatrice?”

“Um … well, I actually _did_ bring something for her,” Wirt replied, fishing out the tape he’d made for Sara from his pocket. “It’s a mixtape, filled with songs I thought Beatrice would like.”

“How will she know it’s for her? It doesn’t say her name?” Greg asked. “You have to put her name on it.”

Writ slapped his forehead, faking the revelation his brother had given him, glad Greg hadn’t asked the more obvious question of how Beatrice could play the cassette if her side of the wall didn’t have tape players. At least Wirt didn’t think they did. “Ha. How could I forget? Thanks little brother.” Wirt ruffled Greg’s hair.

“Here you can use my pencil and paper.” Wirt’s brother handed him the items, pulling them from his backpack and then waited with anticipation written across his face for Writ to do something with them.

“Okay, here goes.” Wirt put the pencil to paper, using his hand as a flat surface to write on and then he read out loud as he composed. “Dear Beatrice. If you’re lonely press play to listen to these really cool songs. Love, Wirt.” He crossed out the word love, only keeping his name, thinking the term would be too sappy for Beatrice. He could actually see her bird eyes rolling at the sight of it. Wirt’s quick revision went unnoticed by Gregory, but it didn’t matter anyway. Beatrice wouldn’t actually be receiving the tape. Wirt would come back to the wall in the morning and retrieve it along with Greg’s drawing. His brother wouldn’t be any the wiser. “There.” Wirt folded the tape into the note and laid it next to Greg’s gift to Beatrice. “Now she’ll know both of us are thinking of her.”

Greg beamed and Wirt was glad he’d come up with this idea for his brother’s sake. It was a little like writing Santa, but what Greg didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Okay, let’s get out of here before it gets dark. Cemeteries at night give me the creeps,” Wirt said as he took Greg’s hand and the two headed back home.

That night Greg said nothing to his parents about that afternoon’s trip to the cemetery. After their initial return from the other side of the wall, Wirt had instructed Greg to keep quiet about what had happened. “They won’t understand and they’ll think we’re crazy. Let’s keep this our little secret, okay?”

“Okay,” Greg had agreed nonchalantly, like it was no big deal and since that day only the two brothers ever mentioned the events, or in Greg’s case, pestered Wirt to go back and visit Beatrice, something he didn’t think was possible. A decision had been made to go home and Wirt felt in his heart that there was no going back to the place where Beatrice was.

The next morning, Wirt dressed in a hurry and when he rushed past his mom in the kitchen, only grabbing a granola bar for his breakfast, she took notice. “Don’t you think you should have a little more than just that?”

“Sorry, gotta run … I’m, um … meeting Sara. We’re going to walk to school together,” Wirt lied, knowing his deceptions were starting to stack up. 

The corner of his mom’s mouth twitched upward as she fought a smile and Wirt turned around, trying his hardest to hide the blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. He and Sara were no longer a couple, but it was the only excuse Wirt could use that he knew his mom wouldn’t protest. She liked Sara and her awkward son had finally started dating much to her relief. “Okay, but wear your gloves. It’s too cold to walk to school without them.”

“Sure,” Wirt replied, still not looking at her.

“Tell Sara I said hi,” he heard his mom say as the door leading outside closed behind him.

Wirt was skipping the bus and it would take him longer to get to school just using his feet, not to mention the little detour he would be taking to the cemetery, so he ran until his legs could no longer stand it. When he finally reached the wall where he and Greg had left their gifts for Beatrice the day before, Wirt had to take a moment to catch his breath. He bent over and pulled air in and out of his lungs a few times in rapid succession. Finally when he'd gained control over his breathing, Wirt straightened up and went to grasp the picture and cassette tape. Only they weren’t there. His heart instantly fell into his stomach at the thought that someone had taken his tape and was at that moment listening to the embarrassing poetry and clarinet he had performed in between songs.

_Oh, god. Anything, but that_

Before he could spiral into a full on panic attack though, his eyes caught sight of an envelope in a spot near the place where the tape and drawing should have been. Reaching out, Wirt grasped the white rectangle of paper and brought it up to better see. The front contained only four words written in perfect cursive:

_To Wirt_

_From Beatrice_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that the consensus in the fandom is that The Unknown was really just impending death for Wirt and Greg, but in my fic I want to treat it like different worlds/dimensions. It would be a lot more difficult to have Wirt and Beatrice end up together if she was actually dead. Also thanks again for your support for this fic. Knowing others are enjoying it pushes me to continue.

Beatrice had written five letters to Wirt over the course of a week, before she decided it simply wasn’t enough to quiet her loneliness. The emotions she had laid out on paper for her imaginary Wirt to read were raw and exposed a part of her that she had never been willing to share with anyone before, but Beatrice also felt there was something else to be done. What exactly that something else was she wasn’t sure, but writing just wasn’t enough.

The idea eventually came to her one evening during dinner. She'd been ignoring the others around her, thinking about _him_ again, when a memory whispered a plan into her ear. Then once her dinner was finished, Beatrice asked to be excused, ran upstairs to retrieve a few items from her room, and then opened the front door to leave. “I’m going out for a little bit,” she told anyone within earshot, but of course, it was only her mother who responded.

“So late? What could you possibly need to do at this time?”

Beatrice slowly turned around, but still held the door open as a way of conveying her intent to leave no matter what her mother said. “Don’t worry about me. I promise to be back before dark.”

A few seconds ticked by while the older woman considered Beatrice’s words before she finally sighed her reply, “Well, make sure to bring George. He’ll protect you.”

Beatrice sent a sidelong glance to the family dog lounging on a rug near the fireplace. He was a Great Dane who could barely chase a squirrel without falling flat on his face and there was no way _that_ animal was going to protect her. Beatrice also took offense to her mother implying that she couldn’t take care of herself and had to rely on an inept dog for protection. Still, if it was the only concession she had to make in order to leave without an argument, then it wasn’t such a bad one. Her mother insisting she bring George was better than her recommending a chaperon in the form of a brother. Considering what she planned to do, Beatrice would definitely take a dog who couldn’t comment on the situation over a sibling with a long history of teasing.

Sticking two fingers into her mouth, Beatrice produced a loud whistle that alerted George and he instantly jumped up on all fours. “Come here, boy!” she called enthusiastically and the family pet quickly came running up to lick her face. “Gross,” she scolded him, but secretly Beatrice enjoyed the dog’s expression of love.

“Before the sun goes down,” she heard her mother’s stern, but loving reminder.

Beatrice held back the retort that was playing on the tip of her tongue, knowing her mother’s anxiety was rooted in the fact her eldest daughter had disappeared once before after saying she was only leaving for a short walk outside. “I promise not to do anything that will get us all turned into birds, but if I do for whatever reason, I also promise to come right back here and admit my mistake.” Beatrice made light of the curse in an attempt to put her mother’s worries to rest.

She knew it had worked when the older woman softly laughed, “Yes, do try not get us turned into birds again. I’ve grown accustomed to having fingers and I rather like them.”

“Yeah, same here.” Beatrice sent her mother a reassuring smile and then walked outside with George following behind.

Her destination wasn’t far and the thought of that caused a little sensation of guilt to press against Beatrice’s newly developed conscience. She had known from the start that it was the garden wall Wirt and Gregory were searching for and when she came to their aid it really wasn’t to be helpful at all. To be helpful would have meant choosing the short path through the woods leading the brothers to their destination. Beatrice knew the way. She had been to the wall countless times before, considering it was so close to her home, but for her own selfish purposes, she had led them astray. If she hadn’t gotten involved in their lives then perhaps they would have found their way home sooner, without so many mishaps, and near death experiences. An apology for her part in their excessive wandering was written in one of the letters to Wirt. Beatrice had spent a long time finding just the right words for that one and it would be the first she would read once her and George arrived at the wall.

As she walked along, the memory from dinner briefly played in Beatrice’s head again. She and Wirt had been forced together, locked inside a wardrobe, when he admitted that he sometimes recited poetry to himself. The confession had sounded weird to her at the time and honestly still did, but maybe if it helped him work through his issues, then it could do the same for her. “Aw cheese and crackers this is going to be so awkward,” Beatrice mumbled to herself and George looked up at her. “Sorry, but you wouldn’t understand. Human stuff,” she explained and he barked back a response. “You’re telling me,” Beatrice replied, not having the faintest idea what George was trying to say.

The sun was starting to inch closer towards the horizon and knowing her time was limited, Beatrice began to speed up her pace, while George ran ahead as if taunting her with his ability to move faster. “Well, you aren’t wearing a dress!” she yelled after him.

When Beatrice finally reached the wall and sat down against it, her heart sank a little, because she knew there was only time to read one letter. With a sigh, she resolved to come back tomorrow after school and try again. “Hey, George I thought I saw a squirrel over there,” she told her dog, but he just stared at her blankly, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. “Look at this, George. Look!” Beatrice picked up a stick and waved it in front of his face. “Go get it,” she ordered after hurling the wood away. He went after it, but didn’t return. George wasn’t one to play fetch and Beatrice knew this. He would find something else to distract himself with which was what she had wanted all along. Reading her words to Wirt out loud was embarrassing enough without George staring her down with his judging eyes. “Goodbye George, don’t come back too soon,” she whispered with a nervous giggle.

Once he was out of sight, Beatrice reached down to pull up the bottom of her dress to reveal the loosened hem on the other side. Inside were four of the five letters she had brought along. It hadn’t been an easy feat, rolling the papers tight enough and then tying them with string to keep that shape, but it had been her only recourse. Coming down the stairs holding the letters for everyone to see was a risk she wasn’t willing to make. If one of them had fallen into the hands of any of her brothers … she shuddered at the thought. Her reputation would have been ruined and everyone would know that Beatrice was really a sap … or at least she was when it concerned Wirt and Greg.

A quick look through the pile revealed that none of envelopes contained the letter she wanted to recite and in one swift movement, Beatrice reached down into the front of her blouse to produce the remaining letter. “There you are,” she said, and opened the envelope. The first words that began her message to Wirt stared back at her and Beatrice was unable to fight the sudden surge of stage fright.

Closing her eyes, she pulled in a lung full of the cold autumn air and then let it out with a loud whoosh. “Dear Wirt, I miss you.” Her voice was shaky, but after a few more times of rehearsing these five words, a tiny amount of courage began working its way through her system. Finally the nervousness subsided and Beatrice was able to open her eyes again, ready to face the entire letter. Only instead of seeing her written words, she saw George’s wet tongue slopping his saliva all over the paper. At first Beatrice screamed in surprise, but then promptly chided her dog by saying, “You dummy,” before moving the creature aside. “Yuck,” she complained as her hand gently shook off the drops of slobber from the paper. “I hope you didn’t ruin this.”

George didn’t seem to care about Beatrice’s irritation and went to lay down at her side. She in return rolled her eyes at him as her hand continued to move her letter in a back and forth motion, but Beatrice stopped suddenly when her eyes caught sight of a different piece of paper laying on the skirt of her dress. It didn’t belong with any of her letters, but like the one she held, it was covered in dog saliva. There was so much of it that Beatrice assumed George had carried the paper in his mouth at some point. “George, what’s that?” she asked him, as if he could answer. Her dog lifted his head and panted in reply. “Ugh, you’re useless,” Beatrice muttered and then reached for the wet paper

As Beatrice gently shook it, something hard fell onto the ground with a thunk and she reached down to pick it up. The item was a small rectangle about the size of her hand. There were two holes in the center and on closer inspection, Beatrice saw that these holes contained tiny teeth. For a brief moment Beatrice worried that the thing might bite her.

_Don’t be silly. It’s obviously dead … or maybe it was never alive._

She wondered if the piece of paper it had been wrapped in might hold a clue to what the mystery object was, and Beatrice turned her attention back to it. With gentle hands, she unfolded the wet paper and read the words that were thankfully still visible despite copious amounts of dog drool.

_Dear Beatrice, If you’re lonely press play to listen to these really cool songs. ~~Love~~ , Wirt_

Instantly Beatrice was on her feet. “Wirt?” she called out, but the only answer she received was a loud bark from George. “Where did you find this? Take me there!” Beatrice demanded and for probably the first time ever in his dog life, George did as he was told.

The area wasn’t far and when Beatrice arrived she bent down to pick up another piece of paper. The first had been a short note from Wirt along with a device that must've been common where he was from. The second was a child’s drawing of a bluebird with the words _To: Beatrice, From: Greg_ written underneath. “Greg,” Beatrice whispered and she trailed her fingers over the bluebird. They weren’t here were they? No, they couldn’t be. Was she going crazy? “How is this possible?” she asked George, because he was the only one there.

Slowly, with Greg’s drawing in one hand and Wirt’s note in the other, Beatrice returned to the spot where she had been before and then sank to the ground, afraid if she stood for much longer that her light headedness would do her in. “If they left something for me … maybe, maybe I can leave something for them?” she thought out loud. Then reaching up with her hand, Beatrice touched the wall, wondering if the barrier between them wasn’t so concrete after all. Maybe she could still communicate with them. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” Beatrice admonished herself and George seemed to agree with a bark.

Still …

Pulling up the letter she had been planning on reading, Beatrice stared at it for a long moment. “It couldn’t hurt to leave this for Wirt. I could come back tomorrow and if the letter is still here then I’ll know that I must be losing my marbles or … if it’s gone, I might not be totally separated from them like I thought.” George replied with a sloppy lick to her face and instead of showing her disapproval like usual, Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thanks for finding this, George.”

When she pulled away, Beatrice noticed the sun was nearly set and quickly gathered all her letters and placed them back into her hem … all except one. That letter was placed in the same spot she had found Gregory’s drawing. With any luck there would be no need to read it out loud after all, because the person Beatrice had written it for would be able to read it himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Wirt skipped the cafeteria after the lunch bell rang indicating it was time for all sophomores to eat. He’d planned to take a walk around the school instead to clear his head, but when his hand pushed open the door leading outside a blast of cold air hit him in the face.

_Oh yeah, cold._

His brain had been swimming since that morning and thinking straight wasn’t something he appeared to be capable of anymore. Wirt closed the door and decided he’d rather head back to his locker than go into a packed lunchroom. He really wasn’t hungry anyway. His stomach was being affected by the same distortion his brain was. It was an excitement along with trepidation and above those two there was an all-out confusion over how Beatrice had been able to write him.

Back at the cemetery he’d instantly called out her name after reading the front of the envelope and in the limited light of early morning Wirt had seen a bird. “Beatrice?” his voice yelled again, but that only startled the bird and it flew away. “Wait, that’s dumb. Birds can’t write.” Then he flipped the envelope over in his hands. There was no seal and Wirt was able to pull out what was inside with ease.

Now sitting in front of his locker, he repeated the same action. At first Wirt thought it might have been some joke played on him by a random jerk who had seen his tape and Greg’s drawing, but as he read, details were revealed that only she could know. The tone of it felt very un-Beatrice with its lack of cynicism and cutting sarcasm, but a lot had happened between them leading up to him leaving with Greg. Maybe she’d changed. “How were you able to do this?” Wirt whispered to himself, his stomach flipping again. “And to write that you _miss_ me?” He didn’t even know how to process _that_.

“Who misses you?”

Wirt glanced up with a start to see Sara standing above him. “I uh, well, that is m-my grandmother. She misses me. Good old granny Beatrice, heh. Writing me letters.” Quickly he shoved the letter back into his jacket pocket and ran a shaky hand through his already every-which-way hair.

Sara was quiet for a few seconds, but to Wirt every awkward moment of silence dragged on for what felt like hours. “Hey, you're not out here, because you’re trying to avoid me are you?” she finally said. “I mean, I thought we were okay. We can still eat lunch together with the group, right?”

The group Sara was referring to had never really been Wirt’s group. They were her friends and he had tagged along once they started dating, but Wirt wasn’t one of them. He was the bent puzzle piece that didn’t fit snuggly with the rest, destined to sit alone inside the puzzle box while the others were put together and framed. Wirt shook his head. He had to stop thinking up angsty poetic analogies about his life. At least he hadn’t said this one out loud. “No, no everything’s fine. I just wanted to come out here to have privacy and read this letter alone.” Wirt patted his pocket.

“You wanted privacy to read a letter from your grandma?” Sara raised an eyebrow. “How personal could that get? Did she reveal your family’s secret cookie recipe?”

“Haha that’s funny, but uh, yeah, you know … she writes about a lot of things that are private, uh, things she can’t tell anyone, but me … oh, wait, you know what, I have to stop. That sounds terrible. Actually the letter is from another girl and I didn’t want you to see it.” Wirt decided to tell a half-truth instead of continuing down a path that could have led nowhere good and everywhere embarrassing.

Sara took a seat beside Wirt and patted his knee, an action that probably would have produced an intense blush before. Now it barely registered on the long list of things that made him embarrassed. “You know you don’t have to worry about my feelings. We’re still friends and like any good friend I want you to be happy, so if you have another girl that you like then that’s a good thing.”

Wirt laughed nervously. “Wh-at, ha, no, no, no, I don’t like Beatrice. I mean I like her, but we pfft … not like _that_.” He made a gesture with his hands that was supposed to represent his feelings for Beatrice, but guessed he was doing it wrong when Sara stared at him questioningly. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Not really,” Sara chuckled. “But if you like this girl,” she imitated Wirt’s hand movements from before as a tease and he laughed, "then maybe you should make her a mixtape. You seem to be good at that.” Sara nudged her shoulder against his.

“Yeah … I guess I could do that,” Wirt replied.

“Just make sure she has a tape player, okay, because not everyone is a dork like you and hordes old musical equipment.”

“Yeah, she most definitely does not own a tape player. I’ll have to get her one.” An idea began to push through Wirt’s brain, clearing away the fuzziness that had persisted since that morning. “Hey, thanks Sara, for the, uh, idea.”

“Sure. No problem,” she said, standing again. “Just try to go light on the clarinet this time.” Sara winked and Wirt blushed. “Come and eat lunch with us when you’re done reading Beatrice’s letter, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Wirt nodded and Sara walked away.

* * *

 

Once the bus dropped him off after school, Wirt went straight into implementing Sara’s idea. He took his bike out of the garage and rode down to the used music store a few miles away from his house. The guy behind the counter, Paul the college dropout slash former musician who Wirt pretended to listen to whenever he waxed eloquently about the good ol’ days of music, waved to him as he entered the store. “Hey, bro. What’s up? Usually I don’t see you till the weekend.”

“I just came for something specific this time,” Wirt replied. “My cassette player died and I need a new one.”

The clerk nodded and placed a hand on his chin to stroke his beard. “Can’t say we get too many of those in, but I’ll check the back,” he replied and walked through a door that had an employees only sign placed above a poster of some local musician Wirt only knew, because Paul had insisted he check them out. Wirt did and was not impressed.

Sara had been right about Wirt’s weird obsession with old technology, especially when it concerned music. A nerd was someone who had to know everything about anything they especially liked and Wirt was definitely that. He knew too much about too many things that most teens wouldn’t even bother with and one of those obsessions brought him to this store every weekend, searching for old equipment, records, and cassettes. It was the reason he had a cassette player at all during an age when everyone could stream pretty much any music they wanted online.

“Hey, you’re lucky, kid. Got this one in yesterday,” Paul said as he walked back into the room and handed over a twin deck cassette player with radio to Wirt.

“How much?” Wirt asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to haggle, because there was only a ten in his wallet.

“Five bucks,” the man said.

Wirt paid for his item and then tying the bag with the cassette player inside to his handlebars, he biked back home in a hurry. After entering the house, Wirt looked at the clock above the stove as he walked past the kitchen and saw that there was only thirty minutes before he had to be at Greg’s bus stop. If he was going to do anything for Beatrice at all it would have to be now. He ran into his room, searching for a cassette tape he could record over. Wirt found one in the corner of his room where he kept most of his musical contraptions bought from the resale shop. The tape was titled, acoustic songs for sleeping, a mix he'd put together for himself. Wirt figured since he probably wasn’t going to be able to record much of himself talking in the short span of time he had, that maybe Beatrice would enjoy something nonthreatening as far as music was concerned. He assumed in whatever time period she was from- if that place even existed in a time period- there was a lack of electronic instruments. He was going to have to ease her into music from his world.

“Hey, Beatrice. It’s me Wirt. So, how’s it going?” he asked after putting the tape into his cassette player and pushing down the record button. Instantly Wirt hit rewind.

_That was lame._

Clearing his throat, Wirt thought hard about what he wanted to say to his friend and then hit record again. “So, Beatrice. Uh, thanks for the letter. I’m not sure how you got it across whatever it is that separates us, but it was nice to hear from you and thanks for that really nice apology. I guess I should say I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I took Adelaide’s scissors even though I knew you were helping Greg and I fight her off. I was just really mad at you for leading us there in the first place. Stupid, I know, but that’s over with and well, I’m glad the scissors worked and you’re human again. I’m sorry that you feel lonely though. I, uh … I miss … you too, but I don’t want you to feel alone over there. You know Greg asks to visit you all the time. It’s why I sent you that tape. He wanted to give you his drawing, so I told him we could send you things. I never thought it would actually work, I mean I’m assuming you got the tape and picture. They weren’t there in the morning, but your letter was. To be honest I have no idea if this will even work … if you’ll get this tape at all. With my luck someone else will find this and use it as blackmail.”

“But, If it makes you feel any better, life has been lonely for me too since I’ve been back and I’m very confused about a lot of things. I broke up with that girl … the one I told you about. We dated for a little while, but it didn’t work out.” Wirt hit the pause button, wondering if maybe he was telling Beatrice too much, but in the end decided he didn’t care if she knew. “I’m learning that things aren’t always what you expect them to be. Well, anyway I hope this finds you and you can use it to help your loneliness. Like I wrote in that letter, if you’re lonely, press play and you can hear my dumb voice and some music too. Oh, and please don’t listen to that other tape I sent you. It’s terrible and I don’t know why I made it and if you could just toss it ...” Wirt paused and shook his head, “but knowing the type of person you are, I think you’ll do exactly the opposite, just because I asked you not to.” Wirt let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess, I’m glad I won’t be around to see that.”

He pushed the stop button. Next time … if there was a next time, he’d make sure to talk more, but for now this little bit would have to do. Swiftly he began to jot down a note to Beatrice explaining how to use the cassette player and also how she could record her own voice for him and Greg to hear. Wirt hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult for her to figure out, but without ever having been exposed to his world’s technology, he worried that she might find it tricky. Although, his memories of Beatrice had her being pretty savvy, so she would probably be fine. Wirt found himself lingering on those memories for a moment and it dawned on him that he could only see Beatrice as a bluebird, something she no longer was. On impulse, Wirt hit the record button one last time and asked, “So, what do you look like as a human?”

When everything was finished, Wirt ran downstairs and filled the cassette player with new batteries before heading out to pick Greg up, but more importantly, to make a little detour to the cemetery afterward.


	5. Chapter 5

[This](http://miyomo.tumblr.com/post/104563816491/i-dont-know-why-i-drew-beatrice-and-her-dog) little bit of fan art may have influenced the beginning of this chapter.

* * *

 

Beatrice didn’t have any trouble sneaking the small rectangle from Wirt or the drawing from Greg into her house. No one seemed to notice the sudden lumpiness that had developed around her breasts, but their ignorance probably had something to do with her rushing up the stairs as soon as she entered the house. Beatrice had been late and heard her mother calling after her, but she wanted to get the two items that were pushed up uncomfortably against her chest into the safety of her room before responding. Naturally, that didn’t go over well with her mother, who knocked on her door seconds after Beatrice entered.

“Beatrice, open this door.” Her mother wasn’t one to shout, but that didn’t mean Beatrice couldn’t hear the soft tone of irritation she inflected while saying her name.

“Coming,” Beatrice answered, shoving her gifts into a desk drawer. “Anything I can help you with?” She smiled wide after cracking the door only enough for her face to be seen.

“Yes, you can tell me why the sun went down and it was fifteen minutes later that you arrived home.” Her mother’s hands were planted firmly on her hips.

“Oh, that. Uh, well, I was running with George and he jumped up on me- you know playing around- and I fell down into some mud.” Beatrice opened the door wider to reveal the dirty dress George had unintentionally ruined and her mother clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That dog,” she sighed. “Well, a ruined dress shouldn't have made you late. It takes only a few seconds to pull yourself back up.”

“I don’t know why you were so worried about me. I wasn't _that_ late,” Beatrice grumbled. Walking back into her room, she sat down on her bed, leaned forward, and rested her face in her hands. “I’m nearly seventeen. Not to mention I was on my own for more than half a year while we were all bluebirds.”

The older woman sat down next to Beatrice and laid a hand on her back. “Exactly, Beatrice. You _are_ almost seventeen and need to stop these unnecessary risks you take. Throwing rocks at birds, going out alone at night, getting into fist fights with your brothers. It’s time to start taking life seriously.”

Beatrice bit her lip. Even though a counter argument had already formed in her head, she fought the urge to say it, not wanting to risk upsetting her mother further. Speaking her mind might lead to more trouble, like not being able to go outside alone anymore, because she was a woman now or some other nonsense. Beatrice could sense the path her mother’s words would take if their disagreement grew into an argument. Women had to sit demurely inside and crochet or whatever boring things girls did once they became adults. That was something Beatrice would try to hold at bay for as long as possible. “I’m sorry. I won’t mess up again. I will make sure to give myself enough time to get home before dark from now on.” She tried to sound as repentant as possible and thankfully her mother bought into the charade.

“Good, now take that muddy dress off and get into your nightgown,” her mother replied.

“My nightgown?” It was too early for bed, but before her mother could responded, Beatrice knew what she was going to say. This was her punishment for being late.

“Yes, late daughters go to bed early.”

Beatrice sighed in resignation. She wouldn’t fight. She would be as conforming as possible in order to still be able to visit the garden wall. That spitfire inside her would have to be pushed down from now on, a task that seemed enormous in scope, but she would make the effort. For Wirt and Greg she would do almost anything.

Once her mother left, Beatrice pulled out the pins keeping her hair secure in a bun, and freed the thick unruly curls she'd been cursed with since birth. After a quick run through of her red locks with a brush, she removed her dress, making sure to retrieve the letters she wrote to Wirt from the hem before tossing it into the laundry pile. She then placed those envelopes alongside her new gifts from Greg and Wirt, and closed the drawer. But after pulling her nightgown over her head, Beatrice returned to the drawer, her eyes lingering on Wirt's rectangle. It was such an odd thing to receive, and she wondered if one day Wirt would tell her what it was. Hopefully soon. Impulsively, Beatrice picked it up and let her fingers travel across the surface. She even poked the holes with fake teeth. Eventually with a yawn, she placed the rectangle under her pillow, and got into bed, thankful she was the eldest and had a room to herself. Keeping secrets from her family would be a lot more difficult if she was forced to share a room with one of her sisters. The only one who knew her secret was George, and thankfully, dogs couldn’t speak. It was possible that her mother might understand. After all, she had been the instigator, prompting Beatrice to write Wirt in the first place. But ever since the bluebird incident, her mother had become weary of anything out of the ordinary, and Beatrice doubted she would encourage a friendship if she knew Wirt and Greg had come from over the garden wall

“That wall has magic in it. You need to be careful when you visit there.” Over the years, her mother had given this same warning to all her children, but reiterated it to Beatrice more than the others. "You are my most mischievous child," she had explained. "And I won't have your brash and reckless nature be your downfall."

She rolled her eyes at the memory and moved to lay on her side, pushing one of her hands underneath the pillow to feel Wirt’s gift. “Just push play … what does that even mean, you nerd,” she said with a smile and slowly began to drift off into dreams where she was a bluebird again.

* * *

 

Beatrice’s confidence in her ability to sneak items in and out of the house without anyone being the wiser shrank significantly the next day when she visited the garden wall after school. “Oh, Wirt. What were you thinking?” Beatrice moaned as she stared at the large contraption left behind for her. It was too large to shove down her blouse, that much she was sure of. With a sigh, Beatrice sat down next to the _thing_ and took out the note tucked neatly behind it.

_Beatrice,_

_This is a tape player. If you push the play button you’ll be able to hear my voice, which I’ve put on the tape inside. When you’re finished listening, push down the rewind button (labeled rew) and then the record button (the red one). If you talk after the red button is down it will place your voice on the tape over mine and you can send that back to me and Greg. Make sure to hit the stop/eject button to remove the tape once you’re done (one hit to stop the player, another to eject the tape). The player is yours to keep. I already bought a second one for myself, so that I can listen to the tape whenever you want to send it back. Hope to “hear” from you soon._

_Wirt_

Wirt’s heart had been in the right place. He had come up with a decent idea of how to keep in contact with her using magic from his world. A thing called a tape player that could transfer her voice onto Wirt’s rectangle, which she now knew was a tape. How could he have known that Beatrice was trying to keep everything a secret? With careful hands, she picked up the even larger rectangle and looked over the buttons Wirt had given a name to. “Just push play, huh?” Wirt’s words from his other note suddenly made sense.

Beatrice looked to her left and then to the right to see if she was alone. Around her there were only trees and to her back there was the wall. Except for the spirts that resided inside nature, Beatrice was completely alone. With this in mind, she let her index finger slide along the various buttons Wirt had mentioned and then settling on the one labeled play, Beatrice pushed down. Instantly the familiar sound of Wirt’s voice, mostly exasperated when they had been together, now calm and sometimes nervous as he stumbled through his words, filled the air.

Beatrice didn’t know why, but as he talked she flushed. A creeping red began to take over the light freckles that dotted the exposed skin on her chest, a side effect she had not expected or one she was used to dealing with. Beatrice was not one to be embarrassed about anything. Angry for sure, but never embarrassed. Now for some reason she was, and that feeling only intensified when she thought of others hearing Wirt’s voice. How could she go home with his large contraption in her hands and not have the others see it … steal it from her and then laugh. That was an unacceptable outcome and when Wirt’s voice ended, followed by some soft music, Beatrice knew she had to devise a way to get his tape player inside without anyone else seeing.

When Beatrice approached her house an hour or so later, she had developed a somewhat lacking plan inside her brain. It could possibly work or it might not, and if the latter happened, then she would bravely face the outcome. A few of her brothers might get new bruises if they attempted to tease, but nonetheless she would deal with it. Her mother was a different story. She couldn’t fight her, and Beatrice hoped that if it came down to a standoff between them the older woman would accept her daughter’s friendship with the two boys from over the wall.

Only three of her siblings were outside. The cold autumn air was probably keeping the others inside, but it was really her youngest brother that she wanted to talk with and Beatrice was glad when she saw him diving into piles of fallen leaves nearby. “Psst, Henry,” she whispered from behind a tree, her voice high enough for him to hear, but low enough to leave the others oblivious.

Her little brother glanced towards the tree she was hidden slightly behind. “Hey, Bea-“ he began, but Beatrice reached up a finger to her mouth and silently shushed him. Then lowering the hand she motioned for him to come to her.

Henry glanced at his other sister and brother playing in the yard, but eventually shrugged his shoulders. “Mother’s mad at you. You were supposed to come home from school and do your chores.”

“Shhh, that’s not important,” Beatrice spoke in a lowered voice. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“I don’t do favors for nothing,” Henry tilted his chin upward and crossed his arms across his chest.

“You little crook,” she huffed.

“That’s the way the cookie crumbles,” her brother replied with a smirk.

“You’re not even using that phrase correctly.” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but she really didn’t have any other option. “Fine, how much.”

“Two coins.” Henry held out his hand.

Beatrice reached into the hem of her dress and retrieved what her brother asked for. “I’m only giving you one now. You have to earn the second by actually doing the favor.”

Henry shrugged. “Okay, deal.”

“I want you to go into the yard, away from the front door and start screaming as loud as you can. You can stop when I ask you how you are.”

Henry replied with a wicked smile. “That’s easy. I’m good at screaming.”

“Yeah, I know. Now go put that talent to use.” Beatrice pushed her brother out from behind the tree and waited for him to start yelling, which he did seconds later.

Just as Beatrice had hoped, her whole family came rushing around Henry, worried for his well-being. This in turn gave Beatrice the opportunity to sneak into the house and her bedroom undetected. She shoved the tape player under her bed and ran back down the stairs to her screaming brother. “Henry, are you okay?” she asked, feigning concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Henry replied. “I just felt like screaming.”

His mother gave him a good scolding about crying wolf, but Henry didn’t seem bothered by it, especially when Beatrice snuck him another coin at dinner.

Like the night before, Beatrice was sent to bed early, this time for neglecting to come home after school to do her chores, but she didn’t mind. It gave her the opportunity to create her own message for Wirt and Greg without anyone being the wiser.

“So, I suppose we are starting with the basics,” Beatrice spoke softly into the device. “You want to know what I look like as a human. Fair enough, but in return I’d like you to give me a rundown of yourself. We only really know each other through our past experiences together on this side of the wall, but what is life like for you over there? What sort of other magical things do you own that are like this tape player? And more importantly … can you send me more tapes of your poetry?” Beatrice stifled a laugh, knowing she had done exactly what Wirt had asked her not to do. “Yes, I listened to that other tape, but I want you to know that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I actually enjoyed most of it. The clarinet, eh … I liked it better when you played bassoon, but the poetry … Wirt … that wasn’t bad. I was kind of impressed.”

Beatrice felt herself blushing again and disliking the feeling of having very little control over her emotions, she changed the subject, giving Wirt a description of her appearance instead. At the end Beatrice added that she hated her freckles, a fact she felt needed to be shared considering she had gone against his request and listened to his tape. His most vulnerable side had been exposed to her and it was only fair to give him a small window into her insecurities too.

Beatrice continued to talk, telling Wirt about her family and how Henry had helped her get the tape player inside her room. She didn’t tell him why she had to sneak it inside, feeling that knowing her mother might not approve could make Wirt uneasy and keep him from sending her tapes. The thought of that caused a slight panic to build inside her that she had to force down. When Beatrice was finally out of things to say she ended with, “Thanks for thinking of this way for us to keep in touch. It really means a lot to me. Anyway, tell Greg I said hello. Hopefully I can hear him too next time.”

She pushed down the stop button and ejected the tape, deciding that tomorrow her fashion choice would have to include a satchel borrowed from her mother, because she didn’t think the front of her blouse could be used again. Absently she touched the sore spot the other tape had created from being pushed up so tightly against her skin. Beatrice didn’t think she would be able to get the new tape out to the wall until the next day and she hoped Wirt wouldn’t think she didn’t care enough to send her voice back to him if he was expecting it by morning. But Beatrice wouldn’t sneak out to deliver the tape that night. Being so brazen might have repercussions she wasn’t willing to deal with … like being grounded. “Tomorrow,” Beatrice sighed as she slipped the tape to Wirt under her pillow. Then returning the tape player to its hiding spot, she tried to fall asleep even though her body was humming with excitement.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t the alarm clock that woke him. That was supposed to go off at 6:30am. But Wirt had a second alarm that forced him from sleep every couple of mornings, despite him telling that alarm he didn’t appreciate it when his little brother woke him up. That morning it was the human alarm that came bouncing into his room. Wirt tried not to show his annoyance, but it was such a hard thing to do when he was first waking up. “Greg, I’ve told you so many times. Stop coming in my room so early,” he grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and using the other to push his brother gently off the bed.

“I know, but I’m so excited, Wirt. I’m just so excited. I can’t control myself. I’m going crazy. It's Beatrice day! Ahhhh.” Greg began to run in a circle while yelling, forcing Wirt out of his bed to try and stop him.

“Hey, quiet!” he ordered in a firm, but hushed voice as he kneeled on the ground and grasped Greg in his arms. “What we’re doing for Beatrice is supposed to be a secret. You yell like that and mom will come in here and I’ll have to figure out a fake reason to explain why you’re in my room at 5am going crazy.”

“You can say I had too much sugar. That’s what mom always says when I start jumping on things.”

“Did you have too much sugar?” Wirt raised an eyebrow questioningly and thought he smelled a hint of cinnamon on his brother’s breath.

Greg nodded enthusiastically. “I ate three Christmas cookies while I waited for you to wake up, but I just couldn’t wait anymore, Wirt. We’re going to hear from Beatrice today. Beatrice!”

Wirt shushed his brother and then asked, “Don’t you think mom’s going to notice that three of the cookies we made yesterday are suddenly missing?”

Greg shrugged. “Maybe she won’t. I only ate the ugly ones, but don’t worry I didn’t eat the one you made of Beatrice.”

“W-what, I didn’t make a Beatrice cookie,” Wirt denied, but the blush creeping up his face told a different story.

“Then why did you give your gingerbread cookie red hair and a blue dress … blue like a bluebird just like Bea-” Greg was silenced by Wirt’s hand being placed over his mouth.

“That wasn’t Beatrice. That was … uh, Orphan Annie and none of this matters anyway. You’re supposed to be asleep and so am I. It’s 5 in the morning, Greg.” Wirt removed his hand from his brother’s face after realizing he was trying to say something. “Sorry. What’d you say?”

“I told you,” Greg replied as Wirt shook off the cookie crumbs that had transferred from his brother’s mouth onto his hand. “It’s Beatrice day!”

“Shhh! Not so loud,” Wirt reminded Greg.

“Oh yeah,” the younger brother said and then made a movement with his hand like he was zipping his mouth shut.

Wirt teasingly tested the fake zipper by pretending to yank on it. “Hmmm seems to be zipped up, but how can I be sure?” he said, causing Greg to erupt into a loud giggle. “But oh, you broke it now, Greg.”

Wirt let go of his brother and went back to sit on his bed. Gregory followed, hopping up on the mattress and rocking from toe to heel and back again in a constant motion of excitement that annoyed Wirt. It was too early for this. “You know, Greg, Beatrice can’t always get the tape back to us right away. You remember her telling us that, right?”

“I know, but you’ll check the wall after school today, won’t you?” Greg was getting close to full on jumping and Wirt reached up to tug him down. He fell on his knees next to him.

“Yeah, I’ll check, but until then we won’t know if she sent the tape back, so there’s no reason for you to be in here screaming about Beatrice.” Wirt yawned.

“I know. I’m sorry. Do you want a Christmas cookie?” Greg pulled a headless gingerbread man from his pajama bottoms and Wirt cringed.

“What? No. I don’t want that. Just go back to your room and wait for mom to wake you up. Can you pretend to be asleep?”

“Oh yeah, I can do that. I’m good at playing pretend. Remember my elephant costume?” Gregory hopped down from Wirt’s bed and began to walk towards the door leading out into the hallway. “Maybe Beatrice will want this cookie,” Wirt heard him say and he was about to explain to Greg that they couldn’t send food to Beatrice, but then didn’t bother. The cookie probably wouldn’t survive the short trip through the hallway and back into his brother’s room without being eaten. Either that or Greg would feed it to his pet frog.

Yawning again, Wirt fell backwards on his bed and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he began to slowly drift back into sleep, but because of all the commotion about Beatrice, his last thought was of a song he wanted to add to his next tape for her. That song played softly in his head and was the last thing he remembered before the loud blare of his real alarm jolted him awake. Wirt moaned. Now he actually had to get out of bed.

On his nightstand was a pen and paper and after turning on the lamp next to them, he wrote down the song he had thought of. It was one among a few others he’d written down on that paper since sending her last tape out. Beatrice would be happy to know that this song had nothing to do with birds. She had commented in one of her recent recordings that Wirt must still think she could fly, because of all the references to birds and wings in the music he selected. Beatrice was being sarcastic, he knew that, but still Wirt wanted to give her songs that she would appreciate and since then had sent her a tape without any music mentioning birds. Sometimes a random reference to who Beatrice used to be still worked its way in and this time the song Wirt had thought of mentioned the color blue.

It was in fact hard for him to see Beatrice not as a bird. She was right about that, even if he knew she had red hair, freckled skin and was probably taller than him … that’s what she had said anyway. But whenever Wirt thought about this new image of her, he could only see who Beatrice had been. It was the main reason he’d drawn the gingerbread man into a gingerbread Beatrice. Wirt was trying to imagine who she was. Although, he wasn’t much of an artist and was surprised that his brother had picked up on who his cookie creation really was. Thinking of it again caused Wirt’s blush to return. Greg, despite his age, was very intuitive.

After a few tapes had been sent back and forth between Wirt and Beatrice, he had tried to devise a way to up the game and communicate with video, but the idea of leaving his phone or any type of video recording device on the ground for anyone to take, didn’t sit well with him. A cassette and its player went unnoticed. Who cared about old technology enough to steal it? He didn’t think the same could be said for something newer and definitely more expensive.

It was his obsession with old technology that had eventually given him the answer to another way of communicating with Beatrice. Now it was just a waiting game for the items he ordered on eBay using his mom’s PayPal account, to arrive. He had begged her to let him use them early, even if Christmas was a week away and begrudgingly she had agreed. His excuse was something about wanting to take Christmas pictures with Sara. Yes, that lie was still in full swing. Wirt felt it was a useful tool in explaining his many absences when he was at the cemetery. But what his mom didn’t know was that the old Polaroid camera and film he’d ordered weren’t for him really. It was a gift for Beatrice.

It took Wirt a little while longer to get ready for school that morning since Greg’s early morning visit had left him feeling sluggish, and when he came into the kitchen his mom commented on the tired expression he must have been wearing. “Just sleepy,” Wirt replied. “I didn’t get good sleep last night.”

He sent a pointed look to Greg who was standing beside their mom, waiting for her to finish pouring his cereal, but his brother only waved at him and said, “Hi, Wirt!”

“Well, I have something that will cheer you into waking up!” His mom replied and before Wirt could ask what she meant, he was left alone in the kitchen as she brought Greg to the dining room table to eat and came back in holding a Christmas present. “For you.” She held out the gift for him to take.

“I can open it now?” Wirt asked, taking hold of the present.

His mom smiled. “That was the deal right? You could open it early to take pictures with Sara as long as I got one of those pictures.”

Wirt’s eyes grew wide. “It’s the camera? But why did you wrap it?”

“Well, you can’t take away all my fun. I want to see you unwrap it.” She clasped her hands in joy and Wirt grimaced at her overly excited state. It was kind of painful to watch.

“You know I’ve seen it already. I picked it out,” he reminded her.

“Oh, don’t be a party pooper. I know that. I just want to enjoy these little moments with you. You’re growing up so fast. Having a girlfriend now. Speaking of which, when are you going to bring Sara over here for dinner?”

“Mooom,” Wirt complained.

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. I won’t overstep your boundaries. Just open the present already. I have to leave for work soon.”

If Wirt wanted to avoid any more talk about his fake girlfriend then he would have to do what his mom wanted. Quickly, he removed the Santa Claus wrapping paper and held up the camera for her to see. “Thanks. It’s just what I wanted. How did you know?” he deadpanned and his mother laughed. “No, but really. Thanks for letting me have this early,” Wirt said in all sincerity.

“Sure. Anything for my little guy.” His mom reached out and patted his head while Wirt fought the impulse to groan.

Before leaving out the door to catch the bus that morning, Wirt slipped the camera into his backpack. If he was going to give it as a gift to Beatrice then he would have to take a few polaroids of himself with Sara to keep up the pretense of them dating.

At school, Sara agreed to let Wirt take a couple of pictures of them together and to not seem creepy he also took photos of himself with other classmates, a list that even included Jason Funderberker. Wirt had just finished taking another picture with a random classmate when Sara approached him at his locker and asked, “So, why all the photos with that old timey camera?”

Wirt decided not to lie. He was so wrapped up in them lately that there was a strong urge in him to actually tell something true for once. “I’m sending the camera to Beatrice as a gift and wanted to use up some of the film, you know, to show her my friends.”

“Oh yeah, Beatrice … the secret letter girl. You haven’t mentioned her since that one day,” Sara remarked. “Did you ever end up making that mixtape?”

Wirt nodded. “I did, but after a few back and forths of us both doing that, I thought we could exchange pictures too.” For emphasis he shook the polaroid he’d just taken in front of Sara's face.

“What about Skype or FaceTime?” Sara asked. “Don’t you guys do that? Doesn’t she have a phone or computer?”

Wirt hadn’t planned well, and as a result, stumbled searching for an answer to Sara’s question. “Uh actually … um … no. Her family is kind of old fashioned. They don’t use modern technology.”

Sara seemed intrigued by this information. “Like the Amish?”

“Heh, yeah, something like that, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s so … different. I’ve never met anyone Amish before. Can I meet her … that is, if she’s even real.” Sara was being playful, but Wirt thought he heard a hint of truth hidden behind her words.

“Maybe, but she doesn’t live around here. She’s in uhhh Pennsylvania, where all the other Amish live,” Wirt answered quickly, frustrated that he was back to lying again and doing it badly.

“Pennsylvania? When did you go-”

“Sorry, Sara. I have to get to my next class, ehhh I’m so swamped,” Wirt interrupted, as he slowly began to back away and unexpectedly bumped into a very large Senior walking behind him. The upperclassmen roughly shoved Wirt out of his way, causing him to hit the wall.

“Are you okay?” Sara asked, coming to his side.

“I’m fine,” Wirt groaned, but then he began to back away again. “See you later, Sara.”

“Bye, Wirt,” she replied as he raced down the hallway and away from any more questions about Beatrice.

For the rest of the school day, Wirt intentionally avoided Sara. He didn’t want to talk to her again until he could create a more concrete backstory for Beatrice that was, in fact, not based in truth, but was similar to the state of his current relationship with her. That way Wirt wouldn’t fumble over the details again. Much to his relief, it was the Friday before Winter Break, so he wouldn’t have to see Sara again for two weeks and while other students were celebrating the end of the first half of the school year, Wirt was trying to remain unnoticed as he snuck on the bus.

After he was dropped off at home, Wirt rode his bike out to the cemetery, his camera in tow and instantly looked for a return tape from Beatrice. His short search came up empty and with a heavy sigh he thought of the disappointing news he’d have to deliver Greg. Beatrice was taking longer in between tape exchanges and Wirt hoped everything was okay. But deep down he knew it wasn’t only worry that he felt at not having a new tape from Beatrice. Loneliness was there too. Whenever she took longer getting back with him, Wirt had a hard time not being upset, because he genuinely enjoyed corresponding with her. It was usually the highlight of his day.

She let Wirt be himself. He could recite his poetry to her and she was never negative. Yeah, per her typical Beatrice ways she would occasionally crack a joke, but his friend always followed that up with compliments and sometimes tips on how he could improve. On one tape he’d even let her hear him play clarinet. Her response was to laugh, tell him how adorable he was and then embarrass herself by trying to sing, something she admitted she wasn’t very good at, despite having been a songbird before.

“What’s going on, Beatrice? Why haven’t you sent the tape back yet?” Wirt sighed to himself and then shoved the camera, the pictures he’d taken, and a note explaining how to use everything, inside the large plastic bag he’d brought with. Afterward, he grasped a few loose leaves in his hand and spread them out over his gift to Beatrice, before walking back to his bike.

That weekend the northeast had its first big snowstorm since summer had turned into autumn and Wirt wasn’t able to get back to the wall right away. He was frustrated at being snowed in, so much so that when the roads were finally cleared and his parents returned to work, the first thing he did was head out to the cemetery. Wirt dressed Gregory and himself in their snowsuits to brave the cold weather, then pulling his brother on a sled, they made their way to find Beatrice’s tape. “Ah ha!” Wirt exclaimed when he finally pulled out a plastic bag filled with pictures and cassette tape from under the snow.

“Show me. Show me!” Greg exclaimed.

“Wait till we get home. I don’t want to get the pictures wet,” Wirt said through his scarf.

The brothers returned home and after shedding their winter gear, Wirt pulled the pictures out and a sort of anticipation began to grow in his stomach. It was the same feeling he’d experienced after finding Beatrice’s letter. “Lemme see!” Greg pestered and Wirt fell down on the living room couch, letting his brother settle in close beside him and they viewed the first polaroid together. “Wooooow, she’s not a bird anymore,” Greg exclaimed in astonishment. Apparently he’d been having trouble seeing Beatrice only as a bird too.

Wirt shook his head. “No, she’s not,” he agreed and suddenly felt the sensation he always did whenever there was a blush beginning to cover his face. Well, now he could add human Beatrice to the long list of things that made him turn beet red and even if he wanted to deny he knew why, the answer was so very clear to him.

Beatrice was beautiful.

So much more than his gingerbread cookie was anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Beatrice was laying on her stomach near the fireplace with her face propped up in her hands. A chessboard was directly in front of her and on the other side of that chessboard was her brother Henry. The game they were playing was rigged from the start, because Henry had no idea what he was doing. Beatrice tried to be patient and teach him how each piece was only allowed to move in certain directions, but after a while she gave up and the two settled on playing something Henry made all the rules for. He was, of course, the winner and feigning anger at her loss, Beatrice yelled, “I’m going to kill you!” and tackled him.

“No! Stop it!” her brother cried as she attacked him with tickles, but Beatrice ignored his pleas and kept at it to the point that the chessboard was knocked over and its pieces strew across the floor. Soon George came to see what all the commotion was about and the house was filled with Henry’s screams followed by George’s barks until another sound rose above them both, the voice of a mother who had heard enough.

“Beatrice, will you stop making all that noise with your brother and come into the parlor?” It was phrased as a question, but Beatrice could hear the tone of an order.

She stifled a groan, remembering her commitment to the role of dutiful daughter, and pulled away from Henry. “Hey, you owe me for that game. I won it,” her brother said, in between gasp for air, a result of him exerting too much energy in his effort to fight his sister off.

Beatrice exaggerated an eye roll and replied, “Come see me later.”

“And you still owe me for that _other_ thing too,” Henry reminded.

His sister sent him a look that told him to shut his mouth, because that _other thing_ wasn’t supposed to be mentioned in front of anyone. There wasn’t anyone else around close enough to hear, but Beatrice was overly cautious when it came to her activities dealing with the garden wall. “Hey, you’ve bled me dry. You have to wait until I can earn more money from doing chores before I can pay you.”

Henry had, on more than one occasion, helped Beatrice out of a jam by offering up his services as a distraction … as long as she paid. Her brother never asked what she was up to when she needed him to direct everyone's attention elsewhere and his age probably had more to do with that than anything else. An eight year old was much more inclined to want a reward in the form of money than to know why his sister was always sneaking around. But the last time she went to him for help, Beatrice had offered him a rain check. Now Henry wanted to collect her debt and didn’t seem all that concerned that he was the reason for his sister’s lack of funds. His reply to her excuse was to return the angry look he was receiving with one of his own. The two were locked in a stare down of scowls for a few minutes when a voice shattered their concentration. “Beatrice, please stop stalling and come sit down with us,” her mother called to her again from the parlor.

“Yes, mother,” Beatrice replied, sticking her tongue out at Henry who returned the favor. With a sigh, she turned her attention away from her brother and took stock of her appearance. If she was going to drink tea in the parlor and _be a lady_ then she better not look like she had just been rolling on the floor. Beatrice straightened her dress and pushed a few fly away strands of hair back into her bun, before heading in the direction her mother’s voice had come from.

“Hello,” Beatrice greeted her mother, Aunt Mary and Cousin Louisa while taking a seat at the table the three occupied.

Her mother’s sister and her family had come to stay for the holidays, but thankfully were leaving the next day. _Thankfully_ , because during their two week visit, Beatrice had only been to the garden wall twice and much to her irritation, she still hadn’t given Wirt his Christmas present. Not to mention her aunt and cousin weren’t exactly pleasant company. Everyone knew by now that Beatrice had been the reason for the whole bluebird mess and her aunt seemed to hold that over her head whenever they were all in the same room together. Louisa wasn’t much better, although was less vocal. Her method of attack was to send Beatrice snotty looks. Her Uncle was okay, but could be quiet and timid. As a result, he never spoke up to rein in Aunt Mary and strangely enough neither did Beatrice’s mother. She was usually very defensive of her children, but had become silent on the issue around her sister. Beatrice chalked it up to her mother wanting to keep the peace and took the whole uncomfortable thinly veiled attacks in stride. She just wanted to get through their visit without giving her mother any reason to say she had misbehaved, and putting on a smile, Beatrice assumed she would have to employ that tactic again while drinking tea with them.

_Put on your happy smile and pretend you don’t want to punch your aunt and cousin in the face._

“That was quite some noise from you and Henry out there,” Aunt Mary said, as she lowered a tea cup from her lips and placed it gently back in its saucer.

Beatrice shrugged. “I like to play with Henry. He’s the youngest and sometimes is forgotten,” she replied, trying not to sound defensive, but also making it obvious that she felt she had done nothing wrong.

“Indeed. How much he must have missed you when you left before and essentially _forgot_ him.” Aunt Mary’s smile was wicked.

“Yes, well, I suppose I’m making up for that as much as possible now.” Beatrice tried to look her aunt in the face, tried to be defiant of her rude remark, but the reminder of when she had abandoned her family caused a pulse of guilt to surge through Beatrice’s body and she absently stared at the large flower pinned atop Louisa’s hat instead. It was garishly ugly. Just like her aunt’s demeanor.

Beatrice’s mother cleared her throat to help dissipate the awkward silence that hung heavy in the air after her daughter and sister’s exchange and offered a change in subject. But not to one Beatrice was all that interested in hearing about. “Beatrice, Louisa was just telling me of the finishing school she attends and it sounded very interesting.”

“Mother, you know you’re probably too old to attend finishing school,” Beatrice teased, but no one at their little tea party seemed amused.

“Yes, I do miss Louisa very much when she is away, but her time there is well spent. Just look at how refined she has become,” Aunt Mary said, not even acknowledging Beatrice’s attempt at humor.

Louisa, put a hand over her mouth in fake embarrassment and tried to act like she was too humble to respond to such praise, but Beatrice could see right through to her conniving brain. She was relishing it. Where was the finishing school that could refine your soul? Louisa could probably use a good lesson from them instead.

The conversation at the table continued to push the benefits of finishing school and how perfect Louisa was, so much so that Beatrice felt her gag reflex begin to act up. To distract herself she tried to remember some of Wirt’s poetry, especially the depressed, the world is a mess, and we’re all going to die, kind. It fit her mood perfectly. Although, on his most recent tape Wirt had been more upbeat, reciting words that were hopeful and about love. She thought of those poems too and decided they were the ones she would focus on to get through tea time with her extended family. They helped her think of better things … like her moments listening to tapes and staring at polaroids. Suddenly Beatrice felt herself beginning to blush, a reaction only Wirt seemed able to produce in her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“What do you think, Beatrice?”

It was her mother who spoke, but about what, she wasn’t sure. Beatrice decided a positive reply would probably fit the question better than a negative. It was very likely they were all still talking about how perfect Louisa was with her beautiful blond curls and clear skin that didn’t contain even one freckle. “I think that I agree.” Beatrice put on her fake smile to help push the answer she hoped was correct.

Her mother smiled back, a sign that the response was what she had wanted. “That’s wonderful. I didn’t realize you would be so easily swayed.”

“That’s me. I like to sway. I sway in all the directions.” Beatrice’s grin was starting to slowly morph into a grimace. What exactly had she been _swayed_ into?

“Well, this is great news. I will write a letter to the school and get the process started. With Aunt Mary’s recommendation I don’t see why you wouldn’t be accepted in about a month. Perhaps I can even request that you share a room with Louisa.”

Her mother continued to babble on and on about the subject Beatrice was slowly coming to realize meant her attending finishing school and without thinking she blurted out, “Wait. I don’t want to go there. I don’t need finishing school. I’m fine the way I am.”

Her daughter’s sudden reversal, startled Beatrice’s mother into silence, but that didn’t stop her aunt from voicing an opinion. “I hardly think rolling on the floor with your brother or any of the other crude things my sister says you do speaks in your defense at being fine the way you are. Grown women do not act as you do. They do not throw rocks at birds and turn their whole family into bluebirds.”

In an instant Beatrice's facade crumbled into a pile of ash at her feet. The character she had been portraying for the past month was gone. Her true self could no longer be contained and with fire burning through her veins she replied in a voice that was just short of a yell, “And what would you know about that? You’re just a bitch who doesn’t understand what it’s like to be normal! Having a stick permanently up your ass is not normal!”

“Beatrice!” her mother exclaimed in shock and probably humiliation at how her daughter was not acting at all refined … not like Louisa anyway.

“I’m not going to finishing school. I won’t. Why would you want to send me away right after we're all back together again?” She hated it, but tears were smarting her eyes, a product of anger and hurt. Her mother was selling her out. Not only that, she was pushing her towards a lifestyle she did not want. Not in the least.

“Beatrice, it’s for your own good,” her mother replied, in a calm and loving voice, a ploy to reel her back in. “You’ll see down the line that this was the right decision.”

“For my good or your good, because you’re embarrassed of me and need me to change who I am?” It didn’t matter what her mother said in response. Beatrice didn’t want to hear it. No matter how she tried to say otherwise, it was so clear to her what all this was about. Who Beatrice was on the inside was the person her mother thought should be erased. Perhaps she still did blame her for the bluebird incident and this was punishment.

Without waiting for anyone else to speak, Beatrice raced towards her room and past Henry who was still messing with the chessboard. He called her name, but she kept running until her door was closed behind her. Once alone, Beatrice crumbled. Letting the tears she'd been holding back flow free, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed, imagining a life where it was valued to know the correct way to curtsy, and what silverware went with what dinner plates, and _cheese and crackers!_ who cared about all that tedious nonsense anyway?

But worst of all, going to finishing school meant being away from the garden wall. With one of her hands already underneath her pillow, Beatrice felt out the photograph of Wirt she kept there and removed it. There he was with Sara. She knew her name, because Wirt had written it on the polaroid. Lucky her. She actually got to be in the same world as him and over there they probably didn’t have finishing schools.

The more Beatrice thought of it, the more she realized being away from her communications with Wirt and Greg was actually the worst part of attending finishing school. How long would it be in between tapes now? Would she get to come home for holidays like Louisa did? So, only holiday tapes now? An ache inside her chest began to grow and to ease it, Beatrice pulled out the tape player to hear Wirt’s voice. She had already listened to this paticular tape once before, but hadn’t had time to record her own voice over it for him and Greg. Now she didn’t want to, because there would only be bad news to deliver.

Beatrice spent most of the afternoon up in her room with Wirt’s tape softly playing and his polaroids close by. The two combined helped calm her down and even if the ache in her chest was still present, it had dulled enough that she was able to think clearly again. And with the grips of despair no longer paralyzing her, Beatrice resolved to escape her room. It wouldn't be to apologize. She wasn’t ready to face her mother or anyone else just yet. But it felt like the garden wall might have the answers she needed, and in any case, it would help her feel closer to Wirt and Greg during a time when they suddenly seemed so far away. With her Christmas present for Wirt in hand, Beatrice opened the door of her room, intending to leave, but let out a startled gasp when a tiny body came tumbling backwards. “Henry! Were you spying on me?” she asked, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Her brother rolled into a sitting position and shook his head. “No, I promise. I just wanted to see if you were okay. Then I heard you crying, so I guarded your door. Didn’t let anyone in to bother you.” He puffed out his chest in an effort to show off his strength, and despite everything, Beatrice laughed.

“How kind of you,” she replied with a genuine smile. “Thank you for being my knight in shining armor. Now, Sir Knight Henry, would you be willing to perform another task for you great queen?”

Henry stood and snorted. “You’re not a queen, but yeah, I’ll help you out.”

“I can’t pay you.”

Her brother shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll just add it to your bill.”

She was hoping he would forget the bill altogether, but obviously Henry didn't have the same idea. “I need another distraction. I want to leave the house, but I’m afraid after all that happened, if I even show my face to mother that I’ll be pulled back into an argument. I just need to leave for a little while, but I want everyone to think I’m still in my room,” Beatrice explained to her brother.

“You’ll come back though, right?” There was honest worry in his voice and his sister patted his head.

“Of course, but I have to leave right now. My skin is crawling being in this house with Aunt Mary and Cousin Louisa. Do you have a way to get me out of here unnoticed?”

Henry placed a hand on his chin and his brow furrowed as he attempted to devise a plan. “Okay,” he finally replied. “Give me a few seconds to get everyone away from the front door.”

Beatrice smiled. “Thanks, little brother.”

“All in a day’s work.” His voice came out sounding too serious and Beatrice giggled.

She wasn’t sure how Henry did it, but a few minutes later when Beatrice crept out of her room, she saw that there was no one in the hallway outside her door or near the front entrance of the house. Knowing her time was limited, she didn’t take the time to investigate what Henry had done to secure her escape and quickly placed on her coat and boots. Then with a glance outside to see if the area was clear, she ran in the direction of the garden wall.

The snow made her journey there more difficult than when only dirt covered the path, and when the wall was finally in sight, Beatrice took a moment to catch her breath before walking up to it. “This is so frustrating,” she sighed, placing her hand against that wall's hard surface. “Why can’t I just see you?” Then in typical Beatrice fashion, her emotions manifested in the form of a fist needing to strike the source of her anger. But without her aunt nearby, she impulsively punched the wall, crying out when her knuckles met the bricks. "You idiot," she berated herself. Pulling away a now bloodied fist, her eyes watched the red liquid as it dripped down and stained the snow below. “I should have worn my mittens.”

Beatrice put her injured hand back into her coat pocket and grasped the envelope with Wirt’s present inside. She didn’t want to just leave it. What she had written was too personal, and with a frustrated groan, Beatrice impulsively touched the wall again where her fist had come in contact with a portion of brick that jutted out. Whoever had made the wall, hadn’t done their job well. There were many areas of it with bricks similar to the one Beatrice held onto, almost like a rickety ladder.

_Like a rickety ladder._

Beatrice didn’t think about what she was doing. At that moment, the instinct telling her climbing the garden wall was louder than anything else, and she followed it blindly, so much so that by the time she reached the top, Beatrice was surprised to see that some of her fingernail tips had been ripped away. “How did Wirt and Gregory ever manage to climb this?” Beatrice wondered as she walked carefully along the length of the wall.

She didn’t know what she'd been expecting to see once her goal of reaching the top had been accomplished. Maybe a part of her hoped there would be another world waiting, but it was still the same as it had always been. The wall wasn’t all that long and Beatrice had walked around it several times during her sixteen years, but she had never been to the top and disappointment flooded her at the landscape being unchanged from her new position. “What am I doing? This was so stupid.” She wanted to cry, and decided that to stop those tears from falling, she would have to remove herself from the wall.

Slowly, she crouched down and went to place her foot onto one of the extended bricks, but clumsily lost her grip, causing her weight to sway in the opposite direction. Beatrice tried to bring her hands back to the wall for support, but was already falling, and as her body rushed up to meet the ground on the other side, she let out a scream that transformed into a whimper. The snow she landed on wasn't the nice fluffy kind and upon impact, Beatrice saw stars as the air was knocked out of her. She couldn’t be sure, because her whole body ached, but there were definitely parts that hurt more than others and she worried that maybe something was broken. “How am I going to get out of this one? Mother’s going to send me away for good after this,” she chided herself.

“Beatrice?!”

The shocked voice that said her name was familiar. She should have known, having spent all afternoon listening to it. “Wirt?” Beatrice squeaked out with just as much surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was a real work of fiction, I would probably try to develop Aunt Mary and Cousin Louisa better, but it's not and I know why you're all here reading this anyway, so I'm going to focus more on the two characters you (me) actually care about.


	8. Chapter 8

Wirt went to the cemetery every day during his winter vacation. He was there so often that the groundskeeper took notice and the two were now on a first name basis. Although, Wirt hadn’t given his real name. He wasn’t sure why he lied. It wasn’t as if going to the cemetery everyday was illegal. Just weird. Still, Wirt knew the middle-aged groundskeeper as Marty and he knew him as Walt. Yeah, it wasn’t such a stretch from Wirt, but he’d panicked and as a result whenever Marty saw Wirt he’d joke, “Hey, now don’t go digging up any of these bodies, okay now, Walt?” It was morose and made Writ cringe every time, but he faked a laugh to keep on the guy’s good side. Wirt was pretty sure Marty was inebriated most of the time anyway.

Sometimes Greg went with Wirt to the cemetery, but mostly his trips there were solo treks. He didn’t want to keep his brother outside for that long and honestly didn’t want the distraction either. Greg had a habit of wandering away and forcing Wirt to go look for him. That usually led to finding his brother deep in a one sided conversation with some mourner who just wanted to be left alone.

Beatrice’s long absence of tapes had only become worse during Wirt’s break and it had started to make him slightly crazy. When he didn’t find a new tape or even photos, he would just sit, sometimes for hours in the cold, hoping maybe something might appear. Wirt really didn’t know how the magic worked- if she could only send him things when he wasn’t there and vice versa- but that didn’t stop him from waiting around just to see.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything more interesting to do. If Wirt wasn’t at the wall then he was in his room feeling depressed. He no longer waited for Beatrice to send a tape before making a new one and as a result there was now a large pile of cassettes ready to go once Beatrice got back with him. The last two tapes Wirt recorded had sadly devolved into him telling her how worried he was. Why wasn’t she sending tapes back to him? Didn’t she know how much it ate him up when she was silent? In retrospect, Wirt realized he’d come across like a controlling boyfriend and had stashed those cassettes away to be recorded over later.

The day before school was set to begin again, Wirt trudged out to the cemetery like he always did, in search of something left behind from Beatrice. He waved to Marty who was busy collecting dying flowers from graves and the older man returned the gesture, asking him the same question he did every time Wirt visited. “Nope, not going to be digging up bodies today.” Wirt laughed uneasily and then headed towards the wall. Kneeling down, he looked in the direction of Marty and when the caretaker was far enough away, Wirt began digging in the snow near the spot Beatrice always left things. His gloved hands eventually touched the hard surface of the frozen ground underneath and Wirt groaned. Another day with no word from Beatrice.

Maybe she'd grown annoyed with him. It wasn’t such an unusual thought considering how awkward he knew he could be. Wirt was used to being the weird friend no one really liked, but tolerated anyway. Yeah, Sara was nice to him, but she was nice to everyone, and Wirt was convinced that was the reason he’d been so attached to her for so many years. Maybe he was forming the same unhealthy attachment to Beatrice and should just let it go. God, he had never felt more like a loser than he did at that moment. Not even when he thought Sara and Jason Funderberker were going to listen to his mixtape together and laugh.

Wirt ended up staying at the wall for another hour, not really expecting anything from Beatrice to appear, but not wanting to go home with a defeated feeling sitting uneasily in his gut. With his back against the bricks, letting time pass slowly around him, Wirt decided to stop visiting the cemetery every day. Maybe he would come back once a week, just to see, but regardless, he knew he had to accept the truth that Beatrice had probably moved on. She didn’t need him or Greg anymore and even if it hurt to admit it, Wirt was very aware that he had to stop kidding himself. “I should have never played the clarinet for her,” he lamented.

Then in a very uncharacteristic move, Wirt swore as he pulled himself up off the ground. The sky was starting to fade from a midday light blue into the bright colors associated with sunset and he had to get back home. His mom would have dinner ready soon and she had started complaining when Wirt came back from his _dates with Sara_ late. With one last glance at the spot where he’d recovered so many of Beatrice’s tapes, Wirt walked towards the exit with a heavy heart pressing uncomfortably against his chest. But he didn’t get far. After only a few steps, Wirt was startled when he heard a high pitched scream from behind and whirling around, his vision fell on a girl laying in the snow exactly where he had been sitting seconds before. It only took him a moment to recognize that the girl looked very similar to the polaroids he’d memorized of Beatrice. But he wasn’t convinced. It just seemed so improbable.

“Beatrice?!” he asked.

The girl was on her back and at the sound of his voice she twisted her head in his direction. “Wirt?” Her voice was a squeak of surprise and the instant she saw him she tried to sit up. Although, the effort caused her to hiss in pain and she fell back down.

After seeing her face and hearing the familiar voice that had spoken to him so many times from his cassette player, Wirt knew without a doubt that the girl in the snow was his friend from over the garden wall. Without a second thought, he ran to Beatrice’s side and crouching down, helped her sit up “What-what are you doing here? How did you ... you look like you’re in pain. A-are you okay?”

“I think … my wrist is twisted or bruised. I couldn’t put pressure on it to help me sit up. My ankle doesn’t feel all that great either.” Beatrice frowned.

“How are you even here?” Wirt asked exasperated, but also delirious with happiness. Without really going over his actions in his head beforehand, he pulled Beatrice into his arms for an embrace, but she hissed again. “Oh, sorry!” Wirt instantly regretted his decision and released her. She fell back against the wall with a thud and groaned. “Oh sorry!” he repeated with a grimace.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Beatrice replied. “I think I’m just sore all over. I came down pretty hard.”

“Came down from where? The wall?” Wirt glanced up to the top of the wall and then back at Beatrice. “That’s a pretty significant drop.”

She nodded. “Tell me about it. I climbed to the top, but lost my balance and fell. I don’t know what happened after that or how I got here … with you.” Beatrice shook her head in confusion. “Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I fell too hard and now I’m dead. I didn’t think it was possible for me to … to be with ... to find you again. I didn’t do anything different to cause this.”

“You’re not dead, Beatrice. You just must have really wanted to be here. That’s how I think it worked for Greg and me,” Wirt smiled, and instinctively placed one of his gloved hands against Beatrice’s freckled cheek before letting it fall down to rest on her shoulder.

Beatrice returned his grin with one of her own. “Yeah, I guess,” she finally said after a few moments of silence passed between them where they only stared at each other. Both silent from disbelief, but also joy … at least for Wirt. He couldn’t be sure what Beatrice was feeling, probably pain more than anything else.

“Oh my god you’re here on my side of the wall!” Wirt suddenly exclaimed, as if realizing the enormity of who was right in front of him for the first time and he let out a noise that resembled a strangled laugh.

“Wirt, Wirt, hey Wirt, are you okay?” Beatrice asked waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m sorry. This is just so weird ... I was so convinced that I’d never hear from you again. You stopped sending tapes,” Wirt replied.

“Not because I wanted to,” Beatrice said, turning her eyes downward, unwilling to look at him.

Wirt could tell the subject wasn’t something she wanted to discuss and he let it go. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here and also hurt, so I have to get you somewhere out of the cold. Do you think you can walk?”

Beatrice shook her head. “Maybe jump on one foot.”

“That’s not going to work.” Wirt thought for a few seconds and then offered, “Why don’t you hop on my back.”

Beatrice scoffed. “Wirt, you’re not going to carry me.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

She pursed her lips and then let out a sigh that ended in a chuckle. “I’ll crush your tiny bones.”

Wirt shrugged and wanted to say that even if she did crush his bones it wouldn’t matter, because she was here and nothing could ruin his day now. “The important thing is that I get you somewhere where we can be alone and I can take a look at your body more closely … or I mean, the injuries on you. That are on your body. I-I have to look at your body to see the injuries.”

Beatrice let out a laugh that transformed into a groan. “Stop being such a dork. I think I bruised my rib-cage and I don’t want to laugh.”

Wirt blushed and didn’t say anything in response, too afraid of what he might verbally stumble through next. Instead, he placed an arm around Beatrice’s torso and slowly helped bring her into a standing position. Then with a little effort she scrambled onto his back, hitched her legs around his hips, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Comfortable?” he asked.

“Probably more than you,” she replied. “I still can’t believe I agreed to this. We’re not going to make it very far before you collapse. Bet you wish I was still tiny like a bird.” Beatrice buried her face in Wirt’s neck and a few hairs that had escaped her bun flew in front of his face, tickling his nose.

“I would never wish for you to still be cursed. Besides I’ll be fine,” Wirt replied, a little irritated that she didn’t have more faith in him. He began to move towards the cemetery’s exit, glad Marty wasn’t around to ask any questions about why he was carrying a girl on his back. He’d probably say she was a dead body or something.

“Wirt?” Beatrice’s head was still buried inside the crook of his neck and he could feel her hot breath trailing against his skin as she spoke.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found you again,” she whispered.

A smile pulled at the corners of Wirt’s mouth. “Me too.”

Wirt wasn’t sure what would come next now that Beatrice had found her way onto his side of the wall and honestly didn’t want to think about it anyway. Thinking meant decisions would have to be made and Wirt would rather feel instead of think. He wanted to experience the contentment of having her back without the complications of an afterward. He wanted a now with her and that now had him carrying her on their way to his house. It certainly wasn’t similar to any of the scenarios he’d played out in his head of them being reunited. And he had thought of a lot! Usually in the moments right before falling asleep. Not that he assumed any of them would come to fruition. Seeing Beatrice again wasn’t something he ever thought would be possible.

“Looks like you scraped up your knuckles pretty badly,” Wirt commented as he walked, staring down at one of Beatrice’s hands that she had draped over his shoulder and left hanging halfway down his chest. Beatrice lifted that hand out of his line of sight and Wirt assumed she was taking a moment to examine the injury, but when she didn’t say anything or place the hand back, he felt the need to investigate further. “Did you hurt them on your way down?”

Beatrice exhaled loudly before answering, “No.”

“Then how?”

He heard some nonsensical grumbling behind him before she replied, “I might have … uh …”

“Might have what?” Wirt pressed.

“Punched the garden wall,” she finally admitted.

“You punched the garden wall?!” Wirt suppressed a chuckle, but couldn’t keep the humor from bleeding a bit into his response.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Beatrice warned, menace coloring her words.

Wirt quickly went to defend himself, remembering the temper Beatrice had exhibited during their time together on her side of the wall. “I didn’t laugh at you.”

“Well, your voice sounded amused,” she complained.

“That’s probably, because I am.”

Beatrice pulled on his hair just enough to make it hurt, which only caused Wirt to do exactly what she didn’t want. He laughed. “Did the wall do something to upset you?” Wirt teased, not wanting to egg her on, but not being able to control himself either.

“Yeah, it was keeping me away from you,” Beatrice replied angrily, but then quickly backtracked. “I mean, I was mad. I was having a bad day, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

Wirt didn’t press further and let the subject drop, but deep down his body was buzzing. He wasn’t sure why he found it so pleasing that Beatrice had punched the wall, because she missed him, but he did and despite the weight of Beatrice wearing down his body, Wirt wore a grin on his face the rest of the way home. 


	9. Chapter 9

It was just beginning to snow when Wirt finally stopped in front of a house that was part of a long line of houses all grouped together in a little community of homes. Each looked very similar to the next and when Beatrice commented on this, Wirt replied with chagrin in his voice, “Welcome to the suburbs.” He then walked up to a door on one of the houses and opened it to reveal a room that contained two cars. Beatrice knew they were cars, because she had asked Wirt right away, but when she began inquiring about other things in the room that looked unfamiliar- and there were a lot- Wirt didn’t respond. Instead he slowly slumped to his knees and groaned.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“Not so much.” Wirt’s voice was strained.

“I told you not to carry me. Now look at you,” Beatrice lectured, but when Wirt replied with a soft noise of pain, she shut her mouth and instantly pushed herself off of him. Her only thought was of elevating the weight from his back as fast as possible and not of what would happen afterward. As a result she fell hard to the ground. It hurt, but Beatrice tried to keep the pain to herself, not wanting to give Wirt any reason to feel guilty. He had done so much for her already. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to suppress the whimper that worked its way through her vocal chords and Wirt heard.

“Oh sorry, I should have help-” He turned around to look at her while speaking, but his sentence was cut short when his movement provoked another groan.

Beatrice grimaced, but Wirt tried to reassure her. “No, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she softly laughed. “You look as awful as you sound, but,” Beatrice paused to glance down at herself, “I’m sure I’m not much better. I think we’re both broken.”

Wirt shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m just exhausted. When we finally got here it was like all the adrenaline rushed out of my body. You though, I’m not sure how bad you are. I’ll have to help you into the house, but you’re going to have to hide from my parents and probably Greg too. I doubt he’d be able to keep quiet if he saw you.”

Beatrice sent him a tiny frown. “It would be nice to see him, though.”

“Maybe later,” Wirt offered. “After I’ve had time to drill it into his head that he can’t say a word about you. You know how he is.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. All childish enthusiasm without any ability to reel it in.” Beatrice made a comical face like Greg’s character traits were the worst thing she had ever heard of and Wirt laughed. It was a nice feeling, being able to pull that response from him, and Beatrice felt a small smile of satisfaction tug at the corners of her mouth.

“That was probably the best description I’ve ever heard of Greg,” Wirt complimented and Beatrice shined under his approval.

But when Wirt made a move like he was going to try and stand, Beatrice impulsively said, “Wirt, am I really something that needs to be kept hidden from everyone?” It was a dumb question, but she still asked anyway. Emotions were dictating her words and she didn't like that Wirt wanted to hide her from others.

Several expressions traveled over Wirt’s face too fast for Beatrice to recognize, but eventually he settled on one she had seen from him many times before … exasperation. “It’s not like that. I can’t have you be seen right now, because magic isn’t the same over here like it is for you and telling my parents you’re my friend who came from another world where humans can be cursed into birds, horses talk, and beasts … well, you know. They wouldn’t understand. They’d probably send me to a psych hospital and give you to Child Protective Services once they found out you technically don’t exist over here. Not to mention my parents _definitely_ wouldn’t like that I wanted you to stay overnight, because you’re too injured to try and climb back into your world. I just turned 16. I can’t do that. My mom would kill me a-and your dress. Girls don’t dress like that here. How can I explain that away? You just came from playing Juliet in a school play?”

Wirt was talking himself into a frenzy and Beatrice placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It worked. Her touched shocked him back into reality and away from all the anxieties inside his head. “You’re right. That was a stupid question. I’m the fish out of water here, so I just need to do what you tell me to. I get it.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed up hair. “Sorry. I think I’m just tired. Carrying you wore me out. But believe me, if I could tell everyone about you I would. You’re not a secret I want to keep. Just one I have to have right now. I’ll work it out, okay? It’s not forever.” Wirt’s eyes moved over to the hand Beatrice had placed on his shoulder. It was the one with the scraped knuckles. When she saw him looking at it, Beatrice quickly hid the injury behind her back. “I have to go inside. Stay here until I come back for you,” he instructed.

“It’s not like I’m all that mobile anyway,” Beatrice replied, indicating her ankle, which they both had decided was probably twisted.

“Okay, well then don’t punch anything while I’m gone,” Wirt teased.

Beatrice scowled and he smiled back, which only made her look of irritation deepen. “Maybe I’ll just punch _you_ when you get back,” she tried to look serious, but couldn’t keep a straight face and they both fell into a soft comfortable laughter.

“I’ll be back,” Wirt told her as he stood with a groan and then walked through a different door than the one they had come through together.

“I’ll be here,” Beatrice replied quietly, but Wirt was already gone and for the first time since her fall from the wall, she was alone. Wirt wasn’t there occupying her time and she had a moment to think about something other than the weird happiness that had swallowed her up in his presence, trapping her in a haze of delirium.

Beatrice tried to shake that feeling and look at things from the perspective of someone not lost in their emotions. She was in another world, away from her family and away from everything familiar. Everything except Wirt and Greg. Not only that, she was hurt and solely dependent on one person for help. She should have been worried or at least a little bit anxious about this new unknown, but oddly wasn’t. Her happiness wanted to keep her trapped in a world of denial. _There is nothing to worry about, because you’re with Wirt now_ \- it whispered to her and Beatrice didn’t try to oppose its claim. Everything _was_ fine now and she was happy after having been very unhappy. That was all there was to think about. Wirt made her happy. The End.

It took Wirt a little while to come back, and to pass the time, Beatrice began looking over all the unfamiliar objects around her. She'd already decided that where Wirt had taken her was some sort of barn. Cars were used for transportation like horses, and other items she saw were similar to ones her family kept in their barn, like a rake and broom. But some were so strange that she couldn't think of a counterpart from her world. One in particular with a long and large handle connected to a device on wheels had her stumped, and when Wirt walked back into the room she opened her mouth to ask about it, but he spoke first. “Okay, change of plan. We have to move fast. Greg is going to distract my parents, so I can get you into my room, but we have to go now.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell Greg.”

“Like I said, change of plan. Now hop on my back again.” He crouched down with his back to her, but Beatrice shook her head.

“I can’t. I’ll hurt you even more,” she protested.

“Beatrice, you promised to do what I said.” Wirt’s voice was exasperated again.

“Yeah, sorry,” she apologized and grasped Wirt’s hand that he'd extended out behind him for her to take. Her heart did a little jump as he yanked her unceremoniously onto his back and then proceeded to stand without so much as a groan. Beatrice assumed his adrenaline must have kicked in again. Without asking if she was set, Wirt took off through the door and Beatrice buried her face into the back of his shirt, keeping her eyes closed until she knew it was all over. That happened when Wirt collapsed onto the ground and she went down along with him. They both made noises of pain, which eventually turned into laughter and Beatrice rolled over onto her side to look at him. “I’m tired of riding your back. Next time we take the car.”

“You wouldn’t bring a horse into a house would you? Same thing goes for cars,” Wirt snorted.

"Actually, I think we did just that before didn't we? Over on my side. Brought a horse into a house," Beatrice reminded him.

"Heh, I suppose you're right," Wirt replied and bringing himself up to his knees, he reached out for Beatrice’s hand. She couldn’t offer him her twisted wrist, so she held out the one with the damaged knuckles. Wirt didn’t say anything about them though as he delicately wrapped her arm around his neck and stood, taking Beatrice along with him. Then she hopped on one foot as he lead her over to a bed to sit.

“Where are we?” she asked, but had already guessed that it was probably Wirt’s bedroom and he replied with an answer that confirmed her suspicion. It was the pile of cassette tapes in one corner that had been her first clue, but there were also other things, namely the outfit he'd worn while on her side of the wall. The cape was hung inside a closet and the tall hat was stuffed on a shelf above it.

“Here, let me take your boots and coat,” Beatrice heard Writ say, bringing her attention back to him.

“Oh yeah, guess I forgot they were still on,” she absently replied.

Kneeling down, Wirt pulled one of Beatrice’s boots off and then took care to be gentle with the other, not wanting to aggravate her twisted ankle. Once that was done, he stood again and began unbuttoning the front of her coat. If not for her injured wrist, Beatrice would have tried to accomplish the task herself, because it unfortunately caused an awkward moment to pass between them when she noticed and then tried to ignore the blush on Wirt’s face. His hands were also having a little bit of trouble performing something that should've been easy, but wasn’t due to trembling fingers. She didn’t know why he was being such a nerd about it, but at the same time had to admit that if there was a mirror nearby, she would have probably seen her cheeks glowing red too.

When Wirt was finally finished, Beatrice shrugged out of her coat for him to take, but as she did, the envelope that had been stashed inside one of its pockets fell to the ground. She didn’t notice, but Wirt did when he came back from hanging her coat up. “Is this yours?” he asked, but then reading his name across the front Wirt added, “Oh wait, it’s for me. From you?”

Beatrice felt a shock of panic run through her body. “No, it’s not ready. I was going to leave it at the wall, but changed my mind. Please, don’t read it.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “Looks like you got some blood on it,” he replied, but then handed it back to her. Beatrice let out a nearly inaudible sigh as she shoved the letter down the front of her dress, thankful he hadn’t inquired further. Writing Wirt that letter, intending it to be his Christmas gift, was one thing when she thought there was no chance of ever seeing him again, but it was a very different situation when he was standing right in front of her. Beatrice didn’t think she could handle his reaction to it, whether it was positive or negative. At least not now.

“I’ll go get the first aid kit from the bathroom. Stay here,” Wirt said, seeming to have forgotten about Beatrice’s letter.

She sent him a look of disbelief. “What? Do you mean I can’t go walking around your house on my injured ankle, saying hello to your parents, because that’s exactly what I was planning on doing.”

Wirt looked like he was bothered with her response, but then his lips curled into a small grin. With that smile still on his face, he walked towards his door and reached out to open it. Only before he could follow through with that action, it hit him in the face. “Ahhh,” he yelled in surprise.

“Oh, hi Wirt. Did I hit you with the door? You shouldn’t stand in front of doors. That’s what mom always tells me. She says, ‘Greg one day you’ll get hit in the face with a door if you keep standing in front of them like that’. Oh, hi Beatrice. Wirt said you were hurt, so I brought the first aid kit for you. Mom and Dad use this all the time when I hurt myself. I do that a lot. So, I know how to fix you.”

“Greg!” Wirt shut the door behind his brother, anger written all over his face. “I told you to stay out until the coast was clear and I came to get you. You’re going to ruin everything.” He threw his hands up in the air expressing his frustration.

Greg was already sitting on the bed next to Beatrice, sifting through the box of bandages. “I’m sorry, but you said Beatrice was hurt. I wanted to help.”

Wirt rubbed his nose absently and Beatrice saw blood beginning to trickle down from one of his nostrils. “Wirt, it’s okay. Let’s just give him some attention to keep him happy. Besides this is exactly what you said would happen if you told him. Why are you so surprised? Now here,” she held out a piece of gauze, “your nose is bleeding.” He took it from her and stuffed his bloody nostril shut. “Why _did_ you tell him?” Beatrice asked as Wirt sat down beside her.

“Because,” he sighed, “I was thinking of what you told me about your brother Henry. I needed to direct my parents’ attention away from the stairway and the only thing that came to me was your stories of how Henry helped you out. Greg was that distraction for us.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything in reply. His mention of Henry had caused a little ache in her chest to throb. It was the first emotion other than happiness that she had felt since falling into Wirt’s world.

“Greg, you’re doing it all wrong. You can’t just put a band aid on her hand and have that be it,” Wirt complained and it was enough to jolt Beatrice away from the guilt she was experiencing.

“I know what I’m doing. Mom taught me,” Greg replied in his always cheerful manner, but then added, “Oops,” as the box of band aids he was holding spilled onto the floor. Wirt responded with a loud sigh that sounded like he thought it was the worst thing in the world that could have happened.

Beatrice was about to open her mouth to tell them both to stop fighting over her when suddenly a soft knock on the door silenced the arguing brothers. Wirt made a strangled noise of worry and before she knew what was happening, her body was quickly shoved underneath the blankets of Wirt’s bed. “Lay down,” he whispered, urgency in his tone and Beatrice did as she was told. There was some quick movements from Wirt and Greg outside of the blankets and then she heard the door creak open.

“Dinner’s ready,” a soft feminine voice said.

“Okay,” Wirt and Greg responded in perfect unison.

A few seconds of silence transpired and then the voice asked, “What are you two up to?”

“Uh, n-nothing, well, um, actually Greg was just helping me with this first aid kit. He accidently gave me a bloody nose. W-we were wrestling. You know, boys will be boys, heh.” Wirt stumbled through his response and Beatrice cringed.

“Wirt, you know you can’t do stuff like that. Your history of bloody noses ...” the voice at the door reprimanded, but with a hint of sympathy mixed in. “Do you need me to-”

“Nope. No. Just fine,” Wirt cut her off.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Thank you for asking. Please leave a message at the beep. Beeeeeep!” Greg added.

There was a long pause where Beatrice became very aware of her heartbeat, before the voice replied, “Okay, well, come downstairs and eat.” The door closed and she heard soft footsteps receding into the background.

“Man that was close,” Wirt exhaled loudly as he pulled the blankets away from Beatrice.

“Your mother?” she asked, pushing the strands of hair that had fallen out of place back into her bun.

Wirt nodded. “I guess we have to go eat now, but I’ll sneak you something back.”

“Thanks.” Until that moment Beatrice hadn’t been aware of how hungry she was and as if on cue her stomach rumbled causing Wirt to chuckle.

“I’ll bring you something too!” Greg chimed in.

“No you won’t,” Wirt told him. “One person trying to sneak food up here will be hard enough.”

“I’ll just say it’s for Jason Funderberker!”

Wirt rolled his eyes, but didn’t continue the disagreement with his brother. Instead, his hand came to rest on Beatrice’s shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he said and for some reason Beatrice’s heart did a little flip flop.

“Okay,” she replied, but then felt the need to tease. “By the way, the stuffed with cotton nose is a good look on you.”

Wirt smirked and then taking Greg’s hand, he led him out of the room.

“Bye, Beatrice!” Greg said loudly from the hallway.

“Be quiet!” his brother hissed, closing his bedroom door shut and Beatrice giggled.

She was alone again, but after all the excitement of that afternoon, Beatrice didn’t mind and leaning back on Wirt’s bed, she tried to relax. Her eyes began roaming around his room, looking at all the things he had hung on the walls. There was a large image of a group of people Beatrice assumed were musicians, because some had instruments in their hands. There were also a few quotes written on paper that Wirt had stuck to the wall. Beatrice thought he must have taken them from old works of literature or maybe they were his poetry. She wasn’t sure. Then her sight fell on the wall the head of his bed was pushed up against. Placed there were polaroids and Beatrice shifted her position to get a better look. That’s when she saw they were images of Wirt and Sara together.

Beatrice didn’t know why she felt surprised at them being there. The story Wirt told his mother of how Sara and him were still dating was one Beatrice knew about and yet, seeing them together on his wall made her feel stupid emotions again. This time it was one she didn’t have any right to feel. Jealousy. With a groan, Beatrice shoved her face into Wirt’s pillow and reached her uninjured hand underneath to help push it in closer. She wanted to smother a scream of frustration, but after doing so her hand brushed across something that felt familiar … something she also kept hidden underneath her pillow back at home. Quickly, Beatrice snatched the two polaroids that were there and then a bright smile formed on her face when she brought them out to see. They were ones she had taken of herself and then given to Wirt.


	10. Chapter 10

When Wirt came back to his room after eating and getting through his daily dose of strained dinner conversations with the parents, he found Beatrice asleep on his bed. She stirred only slightly when he closed the door and Wirt tried to be quiet as he placed a plate with two pizza slices down on his nightstand. She was snoring softly and a small amount of drool was escaping her mouth and falling onto his pillow. It was a sight that amused him simply for its serenity. He’d never seen her so calm. Although, Wirt reminded himself, he had never actually seen Beatrice in her human form in person until that day and even in her disheveled state, she was prettier than any image he’d stared at for long periods of time. That was something he’d done often during winter break when she had stopped sending him tapes. Now she was here, a living, breathing version and not just some flat image hidden under his pillow. It was something Wirt still had a hard time wrapping his brain around. Things had taken a sharp turn so quickly and now Beatrice was actually in his world when just hours before he had believed she was lost to him.

Suddenly, she made a little noise like maybe she was dreaming and Wirt debated waking her. He had brought the pizza back to the room for Beatrice to eat, but after everything that had happened, she must have been exhausted. Wirt knew he was and he hadn’t been through nearly as much as Beatrice. Maybe after falling from the wall, rest was what her body needed more than food.

While he stared at Beatrice- going back and forth in his mind what to do- she shifted, causing a stray lock of red to tumble in front of her face. Wirt watched as it fell and for the first time really noticed the color of her hair, a red and orange combination he’d never seen before … at least not on someone who didn't have access to hair dye. Wirt didn’t think hair dye existed over on Beatrice’s side, but he really couldn’t be sure. Maybe there was some magic you could use that turned your hair into a fiery red with traces of sun in it. Either way, he felt in awe of its color and that poetic side of him felt an itch to compose some verses about the way it looked.

After compiling a short list of words in his head that rhymed with red and Beatrice, Wirt found himself looking past that brilliant hair and onto the face underneath. There were so many freckles, too numerous to count. She’d told him that they made her feel self-conscious, but Wirt didn’t know why. If anything they added to her unique attractiveness and he swept the fallen hair away and gently tucked it behind her ear to get a better look. He never would have dared moving her hair if Beatrice had been awake and the thought of her catching him sent a rush of embarrassment through his body. It wasn’t enough to stop him though, and once the red strands were swept aside he looked closely at her resting face.

Before he could really get a good look though, Beatrice grimaced in her sleep and then grumbled like she was upset. This caused Wirt to reel back from her as he muffled a noise of dread at having been caught in the act of … what? Being weirdly intrigued by his house-guest? He couldn’t use that as an excuse and ransacked his brain for anything to say other than, _Hey Beatrice, I just really wanted to get a good look at how pretty you are_ , but that was the only thing that came to mind. Wirt briefly entertained the thought of running out of his room to escape the upcoming awkwardness, but dropped that idea knowing it really wouldn’t solve the problem. He would just have to be mature and deal with the consequences no matter how bad.

To his utter relief, she didn’t follow up with anything like a yell telling him to get out of her personal space. Her irritation had probably been in response to the dream he suspected she was having. Wirt came in close again, but lost his courage, feeling that he was probably being very weird … even for him, and decided to just leave Beatrice alone until she woke up on her own. But while pulling away, Wirt’s eyes fell on a small purplish circle near her left temple and once he recognized it as a bruise, panic set in again, but for an entirely different reason.

Weren’t you supposed to keep victims of head injuries awake?

He wasn’t sure how hard Beatrice had hit her head, but the bruise was proof that she had hit it in some capacity and that meant the possibility of a concussion. The exact rules in situations like hers weren’t clear in Wirt’s memory, but he thought that keeping a person awake after a fall might be important. As someone who injured easily, Wirt had experienced his fair share of trips to the nurse’s office at school and urgent cares around town. The no sleep after a head injury rule was something he thought he remembered learning during one of those visits and it meant he was going to have to wake her. “Beatrice,” he whispered, leaning down so that he was inches from her face, but she didn’t respond. Wirt repeated her name, increasing the volume on his voice, and without warning, she reached out a hand that hit him in the face.

“W-where am I?” Beatrice bolted upright and thankfully for Wirt, he had already moved out of her way.

“Well, you’re in my room and you just punched me in the nose,” Writ nasally replied, sitting down on his bed. Beatrice’s blow had knocked the gauze away and he was pinching his nostrils together to keep blood from seeping out.

Beatrice placed both of her hands over her face and began to rub her grogginess away, but stopped after only a few seconds. “Ow,” she complained and the pain in her wrist pushed her into awareness. “Oh, I forgot where I was and thought you weren’t real. You sounded funny.”

“Trust me. I’m real and so is my nose you just punched.” Wirt ran a finger underneath his nostrils to catch any blood, but his skin came back just as pale as it always was without any trace of red. “Guess I’m lucky there’s no blood this time.”

“That part of your face has been through a lot today, hasn’t it?” Beatrice used a teasing tone, but also managed to express sympathy as she reached out her good hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Her touch made Wirt slightly uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. “Well, I did promise to punch you before, so there you go.” She sent him a wry smile and he sighed, but eventually returned her grin.

“I guess, I shouldn't be surprised considering your desire to punch things. Do you always get so violent with anyone who tries to wake you up?” Wirt replied sarcastically.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him. “I was having a bad dream.”

“Oh, do you want to talk about it?” Wirt asked, all traces of mocking gone as a guilty feeling crept up on him for being so glib before. “I had those too for a while, bad dreams … you know, after coming back. Mostly about Greg and …” his voice trailed off. Wirt didn’t really want to remember those dreams or the actual events they were inspired by.

Beatrice sensed his uneasiness and patted his shoulder. “Just family stuff, nothing like what you’re talking about. I think I was dreaming about my cousin Louisa and I must have punched you thinking you were her.”

Wirt chuckled. “You want to punch your cousin?”

“You have no idea,” she replied. “She’s horrible, but … I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” Beatrice shook her head and let out a sigh.

Wirt could hear the undertones of animosity that trailed into sadness as Beatrice spoke and even if she said she didn’t want to tell him why this cousin deserved a fist to the face, Wirt’s empathy kept him from complying. “What did she do to you?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Beatrice reiterated more forcefully and suddenly it was like there was a wall between them. This Beatrice- hot tempered and guarded- reminded him of the one he knew before. The one he didn’t like at first.

“Uh, okay, but I just wanted to help.” Wirt tried to shrug off her rebuff and not take it too personally, but failed. His feelings were hurt and he could see Beatrice recognizing this in him with a wince.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out sounding so mean. It’s only … if I talk about this _thing_ with my cousin Louisa then I’ll have to decide what I’m going to do about it and I don’t want to do that right now. I’d rather just enjoy being here. Can’t I ignore all my problems back at home? At least for now?” She tentatively reached out her hand, pulled it back and then finally settled it over his.

Wirt stared down at that hand with its injured knuckles and remembered Beatrice admitting how she had punched the garden wall over missing him and it disabled the filter inside his brain that kept him from saying how he really felt, because of fear. “I know what you mean,” he responded looking back up at her. “I kind of felt the same way when I found you in the cemetery. I know I can’t hide you forever. I have to figure out a plan for an after, but I didn’t want to think about it. I was just happy that you were here and that’s all I wanted to fit into my head. I-I know it’s dumb, but I feel that if I think too deeply about you being here that you’ll just disappear and after worrying about you so much when you stopped sending tapes, that’s the last thing I would want, because I um, I … like you too much.”

Wirt ended up confessing more than he intended and could see a smile forming on Beatrice’s face as she recognized what he already had … he was blushing. Quickly he turned away from her to hide his red face. “Okay then. I won’t ask you anymore about your cousin or what’s going on back home. You can tell me when you’re ready and here, maybe some food will make you feel better.” Embarrassment was causing Wirt to speak and move entirely too fast and when he reached for the pizza on the nightstand, his quick grip on the plate caused the slices to fall off and into Beatrice’s lap.

“Wirt!” she complained. “Calm down. Why are you so worked up?”

“S-sorry, sorry.” He didn’t answer her question, but did remove the pizza and placed it back on the plate. Then he tossed a dirty T-shirt from the floor at Beatrice to help clean up the mess of pizza sauce and cheese he’d made on her dress. Wirt didn’t offer to do it himself even though he had been the cause. In his flustered state he couldn’t imagine placing his hands so near Beatrice’s thighs. He just walked away to sit on the floor, and placing his laptop on his bent knees, Wirt crouched forward as if to hide himself behind the small device.

“Wirt?” Beatrice said, sounding almost like she wasn’t sure of herself.

“Hmmm, yeah?” He peeked up from behind the laptop.

“I … never mind.” She looked away from him, her expression unreadable, and settled on the pizzas Wirt had rescued from her lap. They were still somewhat edible and picking one up she started to eat, but was going about it wrong. Beatrice bit down crust first and Wirt wanted to explain to her the more efficient way of eating pizza, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Instead he kept quiet, locked in a bundle of chaotic emotions.

He was confused. He was embarrassed. He was nervous. And he was reluctant to add anything to what he’d already said. Yeah, he liked Beatrice, but not in the same sense that he had once liked Sara. He’d known Sara for years. She was the only girl he’d ever wanted to be with, and him and Beatrice … well, they had only known each other for a few months. It wasn’t enough time and it felt nothing like how he'd felt for Sara. But still … he had been wrong about her and now he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe he was wrong again. Maybe Beatrice was more than just this friend he exchanged mixtapes with.

The sudden recognition that he might be developing feelings for Beatrice was way too much for Wirt to take in and he tried to distract himself with an internet search on concussions. When he finally gathered what he needed, Wirt’s panic had subsided enough that he felt he could talk again, and Beatrice was just about done with her food. “Hey, I uh, was looking up head injuries on the internet and good news, you won’t have to stay awake all night like I thought,” he said, glancing up from his laptop.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow as she stuffed the last bit of pizza into her mouth. “Internet? Is that that thing you’ve been using over there as an excuse to ignore me?” she asked in between chews.

Wirt nervously laughed off her criticism and came back to sit down on the bed. “No, this is a laptop and it has a browser that can take me to the internet, because it’s connected to my parents wifi and from the browser I can use a search engine …” Wirt paused, taking in Beatrice’s dumbfounded expression. “Just er … this _thing_ ,” he held up the laptop in his hands and shook it slightly for emphasis, “can answer any question I write on it.”

“And you asked about my head injury? I have a head injury?”

“Well ...” His hand was shaking as he reached for the side of Beatrice’s head, but Wirt didn’t let it stop him from touching her. He had resolved not to let his awkwardness over his conflicted feelings for Beatrice hold him back. “Right here you have a bruise. I was worried that you’d have to stay awake all night, but the internet tells me I’ll only have to wake you every two hours to see if you’re okay.”

“Does that mean _you_ will have to stay up all night to do that for me?” Beatrice asked.

“It’s not a big deal. I was planning on it anyway. You know, to avoid any unexpected visits from my parents. I wouldn’t want to see my mom’s reaction if she came in here and saw a girl in my uh, bed.” Wirt knew his blush had returned at the mention of having a girl in his bed and also at having that girl be Beatrice, but he didn’t hide his face this time. He was just going to have to deal with the unfortunate effects of being someone who wore his emotions so blatantly on the outside.

Beatrice didn’t seem fazed and Wirt assumed she had probably become used to seeing him flustered. “And what happens in the morning? I know you said you didn’t want to think about an after, but are you going to hide me up here until I get better?”

Wirt shook his head. There was sort of a haphazard plan formed inside his brain that really didn’t involve anything other than asking Sara for help. He just hoped she would still talk to him. During winter break he had come up with so many excuses to explain why he couldn’t hang out with her and their group of friends that he wondered if maybe she had finally given up on him. “I’ve actually been trying to work that one out,” Wirt told Beatrice. “I’m going to ask Sara for help. You remember me telling you about her, right?”

There was a short break in their conversation, before Beatrice finally answered, “The girl you recited poetry about?” Wirt thought Beatrice was trying to tease him, but her words came out sounding harsh, like the thought of him writing poetry about a girl was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard of.

_If only you knew I was writing poetry in my head about you just a little while ago._

“Well, uh yeah, she’s my ex and also the only person over here that I’ve told about you.”

“You mentioned me to Sara?” Beatrice sounded surprised and also pleased, but he thought she was trying to mute the latter emotion.

“I told her some things about you, but …” Wirt nervously wrung his hands. “Don’t be mad, I didn’t exactly tell her the truth. I may have said something about you being … Amish.”

“Amish?”

Wirt did a quick internet search to show Beatrice the group of people he had lumped her in with and instead of getting mad she laughed. “Can I use this thing? It looks amazing … like a magic mirror.”

“You’re not upset about the Amish thing?” Wirt asked as she stole his laptop, not waiting for a yes or a no answer from him.

Beatrice glanced up at him and away from the laptop’s screen. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know. I thought you might be.” Wirt shrugged.

“I guess even if you lied about who I was it’s nice to know that you mentioned me at all.” She smiled.

“There’s one more thing though.” Wirt gulped and it felt like he was swallowing a rock. Beatrice raised her eyebrows in curiosity, but he hesitated for a few seconds before answering and it was only the sigh of annoyance from Beatrice at how long he was taking, that provoked him to admit, “I kinda, well … I told her we were dating.”


	11. Chapter 11

Beatrice woke to see the red glow of numbers on Wirt’s alarm clock and blinked against the brightness of a time that told her it was 5:54. She wasn’t sure what had pulled her from sleep, but for once it wasn’t the gentle shake of her shoulder from Wirt. His face had greeted her so many times during the night that it had become an expectation, and much to her annoyance, so had him covering his nose for protection each of those times. Beatrice thought it was a little bit dramatic for Wirt to keep shielding his nose whenever he went to check her head injury and eventually had said something about it. The night was a bit of a blur for her though, and she couldn’t remember exactly which time it was, only that by that point it had happened more than once. “Wirt, I won’t punch you, so stop doing that,” she had complained.

“Tell that to my nose,” was his reply and she sent him a glum expression in response.

Beatrice knew she _could_ throw a hard punch. Most of her brothers would attest to that and a tiny amount of sympathy for Wirt began to seep into her. The boy she was with now was a little less rough and tumble than the boys she'd been raised with and maybe her hit had traumatized him. To ease him away from fearing her, Beatrice had tried to joke it off by saying, “Well, that was before we were _courting_. Things are different now. I would never punch my suitor.”

Wirt had looked at her uneasily at first, obviously not liking the use of their sham dating relationship as a tease, but then his mood shifted away from his discomfort enough for him to sarcastically reply, “Uh, yeah, for as much as I know about you … I think you would.” Beatrice had harrumphed, rolled over and gone back to sleep after that comeback.

After that, Beatrice didn’t mention his nose cupping again, and this time, her fourth, maybe fifth stir from sleep, there wasn’t a teenage boy with his face partially covered peering down at her. “Wirt?” she whispered and turned her head to the right after hearing a soft mumble.

Her eyes didn’t have to search far, because the source of that mumble was sitting on the floor next to the bed, leaning his head against the mattress. Beatrice snorted softly at how adorable Wirt looked sleeping, but then her vision traveled down from the top of his head and to his extended hand resting on the comforter she was under. His fingers were woven into hers and Beatrice’s mouth opened in surprise. Her first instinct was to pull away, but after the initial shock wore off, she found herself staring for a long time at the way their hands locked together. For being such an innocent gesture, it felt so intimate coming from Wirt.

Everything else he had done for her since she was injured and became dependent on him, felt similar to what a friend might do for another friend if they were in trouble. Yes, Wirt made everything impossibly awkward that it felt like any act of kindness from him held more weight than it actually did, but Beatrice never took it as anything other than Wirt being …. well, Wirt. Hand holding though … while she slept? Had he been doing this all night and she just didn’t know? It all seemed very sweet and Beatrice pushed down the side of her personality that wanted to wake Wirt and embarrass him. That wouldn’t have been kind and she cared too much about his feelings to aggravate his sensitive side. He wasn’t some brother that deserved a good ribbing for showing affection towards her. He was Wirt and there were a whole different set of rules for her when dealing with someone like him.

Carefully, Beatrice slid her fingers from his grasp and let Wirt’s hand fall from the bed. He didn’t react much to the disturbance, only muttered again and then fell back into a measured breathing that Beatrice listened to as she laid her head back down against his pillow.

Instead of waking him like she probably should have, Beatrice stared up at the white ceiling above her as an image of the letter she had written Wirt pushed its way into her consciousness. At that moment it was folded up into the blue dress she had placed atop Wirt’s dresser. Before going to sleep, Wirt had offered her some of his- as he put it-  _comfy clothes_ , so she could get out of the dress he'd ruined with his food fumble. She had taken him up on the offer, but was forced to dress alone with only one hand at her disposal. That was fine with Beatrice though when compared with the alternative. The thought of asking Wirt to help her undress wasn’t even one she wanted to entertain. She wasn’t _that_ helpless. Thankfully, Wirt was about her size, maybe a little bit smaller, but not enough that it was obvious and the letter Beatrice had hidden down the front of her dress was then folded into it. Now she considered the option of letting Wirt read that letter.

It was incredibly personal, written at a time when Beatrice had spent hours listening to Wirt’s voice to help cheer her up over the unfortunate visit of her mother’s extended family. It was part thank you to him, but also something more than that. And even if Beatrice suspected Wirt might feel the same way about her as she expressed about him in her verses of poetry, the fear that he might not was greater.

Even more upsetting, her wavering on whether or not to give the poem to Wirt made her feel dumb, like she wasn’t sure about something when all her life she was so sure about everything. Beatrice was the girl who always knew what she wanted and went for it, even when it was as disturbed as throwing a rock at a helpless bird. But this time … what if that thing she wanted didn’t want her back?

Beatrice shook her head. None of it really mattered, because now wasn’t the right time to think about Wirt, her letter, or how she maybe was falling for him. If anything she should have been worrying about Sara and how to act Amish or even more importantly, what she was going to do in order to get back home … that was if she even wanted to go back home.

But at that moment in time, Beatrice’s brain didn’t want to let anything else in except for the sleeping boy beside her, the one who had held her hand while she slept. The one who had lied about them dating and the one she now had to pretend to be romantically involved with. Beatrice was conflicted. She didn’t want to pretend. Contrary to the irritation she displayed after his confession of lying to Sara, her heart did long to be dating Wirt. Or did it?

“Oh, shut up, Beatrice,” she grumbled to her mind. It was thinking far too deeply about things that she didn’t want to examine. Next to her Wirt made a noise in his sleep and Beatrice chuckled. “Yeah, you shut up too.” Reaching out the hand he had been holding moments before, she moved some hair away from Wirt’s forehead, but instantly pulled her fingers away when the bedroom door opened. “Oh, cheese and crackers!” she softly exclaimed and slid underneath Wirt’s comforter, trying to lay as flat as was humanly possible.

“Beatrice?” an uncharacteristically quiet voice (at least for the person talking) said and the girl hiding under the covers peered out to see Wirt’s little brother standing in the doorway. Beatrice sat up and pressed an index finger against her lips, then indicated a sleeping Wirt by tipping her head in his direction.

Greg gave her a thumbs up to say he understood and tip toed across the room. When he reached the bed, Beatrice offered him her good hand and after he grasped it, she helped him up. “Your parents aren’t awake are they?” she whispered.

Gregory shook his head. “Just me. I come in here all the time and wake Wirt up. He doesn’t like it.”

“So, why do you keep doing it?” Beatrice snickered.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m only seven. I can’t be responsible for my own actions.” Beatrice softly laughed and Greg crawled into her lap. “Are you going to live here with us now?” he asked.

“I’m not from here, Greg. I can visit, but I’ll probably have to go home soon.” And as Beatrice said it, she knew her words were true. She would have to go home, despite her reservations about doing so.

Wirt’s little brother didn’t seem too happy with that news and followed up with a hopeful, “Will you be staying here again tonight?”

She sighed and hugged Gregory tightly before replying. “I can’t. Wirt is going to see if I can stay with his friend Sara for the next few days.”

“But why?” he whined and Beatrice had to hush him.

“I can’t stay here. It’s a house full of boys. So gross.” She made an exaggerated disgusted face, but couldn’t keep it for long before choking on a laugh she had tried to suppress.

“Mom’s a girl,” Greg provided as a solution. “She’s not gross and would like you. I could go get her and you could meet her and you can be friends. She likes to make cookies. Do you like to make cookies?”

Beatrice shook her head. “Sorry, kid. We’re not supposed to tell your parents I’m here. I think I have to stick with Wirt’s plan and stay at Sara’s.”

Greg was quiet for a few seconds and then letting his disappointment go, he replied, “That’s okay. Staying with Sara won’t be as great as here, but I like her. She’s nice. She would always give me candy whenever she came over. Maybe she’ll give you candy too. She was Wirt’s girlfriend. Did you know that?”

Beatrice nodded slowly, the bottom of her chin coming in contact with the top of Greg’s head. “I did.”

“Are you going to date Wirt now?” he asked as straightforwardly as if he were inquiring about the weather.

Beatrice was caught off guard, but Greg was so innocent that she couldn’t be shocked for long. “I ... I don’t know the answer to that one, but what I do know is that you should probably go back to your room and try to sleep."

Greg shrugged out of her arms. “Okay, well, if you _are_ going to date Wirt, then that would be okay. Me and Jason Funderberker talked it over. He says you would be good for Wirt. You make him laugh,” Greg said as he slid down from the bed.

“Nice to know I have his approval,” Beatrice winked at him, a smile pulling at her lips as she fought another laugh.

“Bye, Beatrice,” he said when he reached the door and then closed it a little too loudly, causing Wirt to jolt awake.

“Who was- who was that?” Wirt rushed to his feet, but swayed slightly and then muttered, “Ohhhh.” There was a faraway look in his eyes and seconds later, he came crashing down onto Beatrice.

She wasn’t hurt, but Wirt was in a position over her body that placed his head against her chest and after the surprise wore off, Beatrice pushed him beside her instead. She didn’t want to shout, but never having experienced someone fainting before, his still body unnerved her, and the volume of her voice as she called his name rose to a level Wirt probably wouldn’t have approved of.

But he wasn’t out for long. After a few good shakes to his body that weren’t as gentle as the ones he had used to wake her, Wirt opened his eyes. “Always so violent with me.” He sent her a crooked grin while pulling himself into a sitting position.

Beatrice folded her arms across her chest in contempt. “Don’t joke. I was worried.”

“Heh, sorry.” His grin turned sheepish. “Did I faint?”

“I think so. Does that happen a lot?”

“Ehhh, sometimes. Usually if I stand too fast … or stay in the sun too long, or uh, basically do anything … actually it happens all the time,” he replied and then glanced at his closed bedroom door. “Was someone in here before, I, uh, fainted?”

“Just Greg, but I told him to go back to bed,” Beatrice informed him.

Wirt sighed with a hint of exasperation coloring his exhale. “He’s _always_ doing that. I wish I had a lock on my door.”

“It’s okay. He only had adorable Greg things to say. Besides better him than your parents.”

“Yeah … sorry I fell asleep.” Wirt frowned in apology. “Last thing I remember I was slapping my face trying to stay awake.”

Beatrice couldn't hold herself back and mocked, “Like your face needs anymore help being red.” Then reaching out a hand, she gently slapped his left cheek a few times.

Wirt batted her hand away. “Cut it out,” he grumbled shyly and Beatrice chuckled. “So, I should probably go get ready for school now,” he said, glimpsing at the clock on his nightstand. “I leave for the bus stop in an hour.”

The night before, Wirt had explained that it would be better if he asked for Sara’s help in person and that meant Beatrice would have to be stuck alone in Wirt’s home for hours while he went to school. She didn’t really like the idea, but also had promised to go along with what he said, because she didn’t have a plan of her own to counter his. Wirt must have seen something in Beatrice’s face that expressed her feelings, because he felt the need to add, “It’s not long and you’ll have the whole house to yourself. You can go anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to run sprints up and down the stairs on my twisted ankle,” she replied sardonically.

Wirt looked amused by her response. “I, uh, wouldn’t advise that, but if you feel the need.”

Beatrice thought that maybe her personality was beginning to rub off on Wirt and despite his quip upstaging hers, she felt a slow smile beginning to grow on her face. “Whatever, nerd,” she retorted, trying to hide her grin by turning her face away from his.

He just laughed and left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a rectangle. Unlike all those others he had left at the wall for her, this one was edible and came in a silver package of two. “Breakfast,” he explained and bit into one, then offered the other to her. The two of them sat side by side, eating in comfortable silence and as the taste of the sweet rectangle hit her tongue each time she took a bite, Beatrice had to admit that food on Wirt’s side of the wall was much tastier than anything her mother cooked.

When Wirt was finally ready to leave an hour later, he walked to the door of his room and said to Beatrice, “My stepdad’s already gone and my mom goes to work after she puts Greg on the bus. That’s not too long from now. After that you won’t have to worry about staying quiet in here and I’ll hopefully come back with Sara around 2:45.”

Beatrice nodded, but also frowned, an expression she couldn’t seem to fight off. Wirt hesitated at the door after seeing the look on her face and then came back to the bed she was sitting on. “Hey, if you want to waste your time on something while I’m gone, you can listen to all the tapes I made for you over break.” He pointed at a stack of cassettes that were beside their player in a corner of his room. “If anything it will show you just how miserable I was when I didn’t think you were going to be in my life anymore … not that you were physically here, but you know … your tapes, uh, they … they were my favorite part of the day when you did send them.”

Beatrice’s frown pushed upward into a small smile. His earnest admission made her heart flip, and as she stared into his brown eyes a little emotion stimulated her desire to do something reckless … so rash that she held back. Again the girl who always went for what she wanted used discretion and decided kissing Wirt probably wouldn’t have produced the reaction in him that she wanted.

“Wirt, hurry up. You’ll miss the bus!” A voice yelled from somewhere outside his door, breaking the spell between them.

“Gotta go,” he said to her and moments later, Wirt walked out the door, leaving Beatrice alone with her very conflicted emotions.


	12. Chapter 12

Wirt was well aware he was the type of guy who would never be known for his athleticism. That just wasn’t ever going to be in the cards for him. In fact, he was so- as his mom put it- fragile, that she had obtained a doctor’s note so he could sit out most gym class activities. That was a happy day for him freshman year when he had delivered that note to the school nurse. Some of the larger kids in his class had taken to using him as a target during dodgeball. He did not miss dodgeball.

This lack in any discernable muscle mass on Wirt, meant carrying a teenage girl on his back for nearly 20 minutes the day before would be something his body would feel greatly the next morning. And it did. Wirt was miserable. His back was sore. His legs were weak and he was also experiencing the all over ache of someone who hadn’t slept much. The painkillers he’d taken after breakfast had reduced his suffering, but had unfortunately made him even sleepier than he already was. Getting through the next 7 hours, trying to pay attention in his classes, was going to be a challenge.

But as he rode the bus to school, Wirt was able to push away all the negative thoughts he had about how he felt physically by reminding himself of what had happened between him and Beatrice. Actually nothing significant had happened between them, but there was a moment before he left to catch the bus that he thought maybe … there was something? He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but there was a feeling that had pulsated between them, an energy that had connected them and … Wirt sighed as he leaned his head against the cold glass of the bus window. He was being too poetic about the whole thing. Maybe it hadn’t been anything for Beatrice at all. But after he told her he wouldn’t mind if she listened to his tapes of desperation for her, Wirt wanted to uh … what? Kiss her? He didn’t know the first thing about kissing. Maybe just hold her? That sounded too weird. Whatever that thing between them was, one-sided or not, it had replaced the indecision he felt about his feelings for Beatrice. Even if there was little resemblance to how his crush on Sara had felt, Wirt was very certain that he was attracted to Beatrice.

But really that wasn’t anything new. He’d been impressed with her attractiveness since viewing that first polaroid. The difference was him admitting that all those things he found appealing in Beatrice’s tapes were even greater in person. He was attracted to who she was inside. It was in the way she made Wirt feel about himself. He could be who he was and she might crack jokes, but that was just how she showed affection. He realized that now. It was her way of mentioning the things that made him feel abnormal and saying they weren’t that big of a deal to her. She didn’t care that he was this weirdo kid who got bloody noses, played the clarinet, kept journals of poetry, fainted occasionally and …

_wow, there are so many things about me that aren’t considered normal ..._

But none of that mattered to her. Beatrice liked him for who he was and Wirt remembered that little lesson he’d written down in his journal nearly two months before … _things aren’t always what you expect them to be_. Wirt never expected that the little bluebird who tormented him at first would actually turn out to be a human he would want to date. That was something he could have never predicted, not just that she was human, but that she would turn out to be so ... likable.

All through first period, Wirt tried to stay awake by thinking of Beatrice’s face and its many expressions; the softness it displayed while she slept, the amusement in her eyes whenever she teased him, the way her nose scrunched up when she was upset, but above all, the pull of her lips upward as she expressed her happiness with a smile.

However, as time slowly dragged on, even Beatrice wasn’t enough to keep him from dozing and when Algebra turned into English, Wirt was glad for the distraction of a class change. Even better, it was a period he shared with Sara and that meant he would have the opportunity to talk with her about Beatrice.

There were no assigned seats in English, so when Wirt entered the classroom, he spotted Sara chatting with one of her friends, and slid into the desk next to hers. “Hey,” he casually said, like everything was normal, and he hadn’t spent their two weeks away from school ignoring her.

At the sound of his voice, Sara twisted her head to look at him and smiled. “Wirt?!” she said in surprise. “Glad to see you’re alive. I was beginning to worry. You were sick all through break.”

“Heh, yeah … I, uh, well … I ...” he stammered, his sleepy state was keeping his head in a fog and unable to find a suitable response to uphold the lie he’d used to decline all her invitations out.

“Wirt, it’s okay. I was just joking,” Sara chuckled, leaning across the aisle to pat his knee. “I’m glad you’re okay though. That must have sucked being so sick during Christmas.”

Wirt nodded and then tried to fight, but then couldn’t hold back a yawn. “Sorry,” he said through it. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Is Greg still waking you up in the morning?” Sara asked.

“At least twice a week, but it’s not, he’s not why I’m tired. It was, um … remember that girl ... the one I was writing letters to and then sending polaroids?”

“Your long distance Amish girlfriend? The one from Pennsylvania?” Sara’s eyebrows rose in interest and she leaned in even closer.

“Well, uh, yeah, but she’s not exactly Amish.” Wirt had decided after quizzing and then hearing Beatrice’s flubbed responses about the Amish that he would have to come up with another excuse for her lack of understanding in modern technology. He had offered to help her study an online article about the religious group he'd associated her with, but Beatrice had seemed more interested in watching cat videos on his laptop once she discovered they existed.

Sara looked confused with his denial and began to say, “Not Amish? I thought you-” but Wirt interrupted her.

“Well, I never exactly said Beatrice was Amish, only that she was something _like_ Amish. Her family is extremely conservative. No TVs, smartphones, or computers in her house. She can only wear dresses and her mom home schools her,” Wirt lied, although there were bits of his story that contained shades of truths.

“Wow, that sounds downright archaic,” Sara remarked, then slowly one corner of her mouth twitched upward. “So, your _not Amish_ girlfriend is the one who kept you awake last night?” The way she spoke hinted at something embarrassing for Wirt and he could feel his larger than average ears becoming hot.

“No, n-no … _no_.” He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. She’s visiting and didn’t get here till late last night. Then I fought with my parents, because they said she couldn’t stay at my house. It’s just a mess. They’re being so unreasonable.” Wirt let out a sigh like he was frustrated with his mom and stepdad, but he felt more frustrated with himself. His talk with Sara wasn’t going exactly as smoothly as he’d hoped. Nothing ever did for him.

Sara observed Wirt with suspicion, but whatever questions her expression alluded to, she left them unsaid. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Weird time for her to be visiting though. Can’t do much if you’re in school most of the day.”

“Yeah, heh,” Wirt pulled out the collar of his shirt, trying to relieve the heat he felt from nervousness. He was screwing this up so badly. “It was sort of unplanned.” And it had been. He’d never expected Beatrice would fall into his world or that he would have to make up lies for her.

“What do you mean?” Sara asked.

Wirt audibly gulped. “Her p-parents went out of town for a, uhhh … family emergency aaand Beatrice, she took a bus here to see me. Her parents don’t know. She’s only planning on being gone while they are.”

Sara's eyes widened in shock, but then she let out a soft chuckle. “I never thought you’d be the type to get mixed up in … I don’t know, some sort of Romeo and Juliet scenario.”

Wirt grimaced and let out a wry laugh. “Please, don’t mention a couple whose relationship ended, because they both died.” For him, after everything he’d experienced over on Beatrice’s side of the wall, it didn’t seem like such a far stretch.

“I know you like to be dramatic, Wirt, but that was Shakespeare. It won’t be _that_ bad for you guys,” Sara reassured him. “Really though, you had to have known it was going to be difficult dating someone living out of state. Long distance relationships always are.”

“Yeah, I didn’t intend on her and me ...” Wirt trailed off, recognizing that his words weren’t lies anymore. He really hadn’t intended on developing feelings for Beatrice and maybe they hadn’t developed for her, but for him … he’d already fallen. “It just sort of happened and circumstances aren’t the best right now. Hopefully that will change.”

Glancing away from Sara, his eyes searched out the classroom clock, and Wirt noticed that there wasn’t much time before their teacher would take his place at the podium to lecture. He had better get to the point of his conversation with Sara before that happened. But just as he was about to turn his attention back to her, Sara asked, “Is there anything I can do to help while she’s here? I might be able to relate considering you and I dated. Although, my dad isn’t quite as strict as her family sounds, but still if your parents are giving you a hard time about her, she might need some support.”

A heavy weight was suddenly lifted from Wirt and he almost moaned in relief. Sara was making this easier for him by offering her help before he even had to ask. Of course, it’s what he should have expected. That was just Sara, willing to help anyone even if she didn’t know them. “Actually, I was going to do just that. Ask for your help,” Wirt said.

“Oh really? What do you need me to do?”

“Well, can Beatrice stay at your house for the next few days?” He asked his question in one long drawn out breath, hoping that talking fast would confuse her into saying yes.

But Sara didn’t look confused and didn’t seem upset either. She was quiet for a few seconds, probably mulling over some things in her head, but finally replied, “I don’t think that should be a problem. My dad’s always too busy to notice anything anyway, you know … single parent syndrome, and even if he did, I doubt he’d care. So, yeah, Beatrice can stay in the guest bedroom.”

* * *

It wasn’t exactly as if Sara was rich. She did go to public school after all, but Wirt’s ex was also the only child of a successful lawyer who had lost his wife when Sara was only four. That meant he spoiled his daughter, but she never took it for granted. Wirt seemed to think it was what had shaped her outlook on life. Sara had a lot, but didn’t have the one thing she wanted most, a mom. This gave her an appreciation for everything she did have and Sara made sure to spread the wealth around to her friends. This also meant that on her sixteenth birthday, Sara had received a car. She was one of only three other students in the sophomore class that could claim this privilege.

But, Wirt also learned that having a dad who lavished you with presents to make up for the fact that he was a single father who worked often, meant Sara had little fear of him punishing her. When she suggested they pick up Beatrice during lunch and just skip the rest of their classes, he’d stared at her blankly like it was a joke. Sara had been serious though and when she gave him a reproachful look, saying, “Are you really so concerned about not breaking the rules? You’re dating someone who ran away from home to visit you.” He couldn’t really argue with that.

Even if it pained him to do something against the rules, Wirt loaded into her car when all the other sophomores were heading to the cafeteria. “Should we pick her up something to eat?” Sara asked as they drove off the school’s property.

“Well, she likes pizza,” Wirt suggested and Sara had him call in an order that they would pick up on their way to her house.

When they finally reached Wirt’s, he suggested Sara stay downstairs while he went to get his _girlfriend_ and she agreed, turning on the TV to occupy her time as she waited.

“Beatrice!” Wirt called when he reached the top of the stairs, but after looking inside his bedroom, he found it empty. Saying her name again, only louder, he heard a voice coming from the bathroom down the hall, or as Beatrice liked to call it, the inside outhouse.

“Wirt? What are you doing here so early?” She poked her head out into the hallway briefly and as he approached, Wirt noticed that her hair seemed a richer and darker red. On closer inspection he realized it was only wet … and down. He hadn’t seen it out of a bun before and the way it looked on Beatrice was like seeing her beauty at a whole new angle. When she pulled her head back inside the door frame, Wirt’s only goal was to get to her, so he could stare some more.

Entering the bathroom, Wirt found Beatrice sitting on the sink counter, still wearing his sweats and pulling a brush through her very long and wet hair. Without warning his brain’s filter disabled and he breathed almost dreamily, “Your hair looks so nice down like that.”

Beatrice made an embarrassed face and then laughed off his compliment. “Okay, thanks, I guess.”

“Sorry,” Wirt backpedaled. “I didn’t … I’m sure that sounded creepy.”

She considered his words, then shrugged and when Beatrice replied her voice actually sounded pleased. “No, not creepy. I just like to give you a hard time. Besides, I know how good I look.” A smile slowly lit her face and Wirt had to fight the urge to tell her how pretty he thought that was too.

“I just … you look different,” he clarified. “Just thought I’d let you know it was nice.” Wirt was blushing.

“Aww, well, you _don’t_ look different,” she pointed out, “but I tend to like the messy, just got out of bed hair that you always have.”

“It’s not easy to pull this off either. It takes so much effort to get this hairstyle just right,” Wirt teased and they both laughed.

“So, why are you here early?” Beatrice repeated her question from before and continued to brush out her hair.

“Oh, yeah!” Wirt hit his forehead, remembering that his reason for being home wasn’t just to tell Beatrice how pretty she was. “I’m skipping school with Sara. She’s downstairs. We’re going to take you to her house now.”

“Now?” Beatrice sounded anxious, and Wirt tried to calm her.

“Don’t worry. She’s cool and really wants to help. Although, you should know you’re no longer Amish.”

Beatrice sighed, “Well, that’s a relief,” and Wirt gave her a quick rundown of the new false story he’d told Sara. She nodded when he reached the end. “Sounds easy enough to remember, but we’re still dating right?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t explain that one away.” He ruefully grinned.

“That’s okay. There are worse things out there than being your girlfriend,” Beatrice replied, giving her hair one last run through before placing the hairbrush down that Wirt assumed was his, but he couldn’t remember that last time he’d used it. “Can you help me walk? It was awful hoping on one foot to get in here.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Wirt replied and Beatrice reached her arm around his shoulders, so he could help her down from the counter.

Wirt tried to suppress a groan from the pain she caused in his already sore muscles, and wrapped an arm around her torso. For a split second his hand came in contact with the exposed skin of her stomach as the shirt she wore pushed slightly upward and Wirt felt himself growing hot. Beatrice didn’t notice or ignored it and he was thankful that there wasn’t a tease from her trying to push his buttons. So many of his buttons were already being pushed as it was and all of them made him frustrated with a longing for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun coming up with a back story for Sara, since there really wasn't much to go on based on the show. I figure she would be the altruistic type, considering how she put up with Jason Funderberker and was still kind to him.


	13. Chapter 13

As Beatrice sat in the back of Sara’s car, trying not to be overwhelmed by her first vehicle ride and also the nearness of Wirt beside her, she heard Sara say her name followed by some words she didn't catch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Beatrice replied.

“I wanted to know what kind of music you like,” Sara reiterated from her seat up front. “You’re the guest. You get to pick the music.”

“Ummm …” Beatrice looked to Wirt for help, but he seemed as oblivious as her. It was while looking at his unsure expression that an answer came to her. The only music she knew from Wirt’s world was the kind he put on his tapes. “Wirt sends me songs with a lot of different sad men singing. I like them, but,” she paused and sent her friend an apologetic expression, “sometimes they can be too depressing.”

“What? You never told me that?” Wirt appeared disappointed. “I thought you liked that music.”

“I just said that I did, but, you know, variety would be nice once in a while.” Wirt didn’t look happy with her response and Beatrice tried to think of a way to make up for the offense she had committed against his musical tastes. “Your clarinet playing is nice too,” she enthused, but his frown only deepened.

“Okay, moving on,” Wirt said, embarrassment drenching his words.

“Hmmm, Wirt sending you mixtapes of whiny male musicians. That’s not like him at all.” Beatrice could hear the sarcasm in Sara’s voice and she found herself chuckling. It seemed Sara wasn’t so different from her. Wirt didn’t look happy though. He crossed his arms across his chest and reenacted a scene Beatrice had seen many times from him. He blushed.

“Here, maybe you’d like something more upbeat,” Sara suggested and without warning the inside of her car was filled with a type of music Beatrice was unfamiliar with.

But the suddenness of the song caused her to jump and then tumble against Wirt. “Uh, hey,” he said shyly, their faces inches from each other. “You’re hair … it’s ...” Reaching up, Wirt tucked some stray curls back behind her ear.

“Thanks,” Beatrice muttered and scooted over to her seat again. “Sorry … about falling on you,” she apologized, running her fingers through the rest of her hair. Wearing it down wasn’t something Beatrice usually did. It was long, with unruly curls that rarely ever stayed in place, but after Wirt told her how pretty she looked with it framing her face, Beatrice wasn’t willing to wear it any other way.

Wirt shrugged her apology away and reached over to pull a strap down over her. “It’s called a seatbelt,” he said, clicking the bottom of the strap into the seat. “Besides it’s not your fault you freaked out. Pop music has that reaction in most people with decent music tastes.” He shuddered in a comical way.

“Oh, Wirt, you’re such a music snob,” Sara said, inserting herself into their conversation. The insult had been tinged with friendliness and Wirt laughed.

Sara being able to pull a laugh from Wirt caused Beatrice to feel a slight pang of jealousy, but knowing that emotion was misplaced, she pushed it down into the pit of her stomach. If she was going to stay at Sara’s home, Beatrice couldn’t start off their relationship by being snippy. It was something her impulsive side might have done before, but now she held back her tendency to say things out of annoyance. Sara was helping her out. Beatrice had to be pleasant. “I like this song,” she told Sara, trying to be friendly, but not knowing exactly how she felt about the female singer who kept saying she just wanted to party. It was different, and definitely used a lot more instruments than some of Wirt’s favorite musicians, but it wasn’t necessarily bad.

“Of course you do,” Wirt groused.

“Guess your next mixtape to Beatrice will have to contain some top 40 radio hits,” Sara said with a laugh.

“Is that what you want? Songs like this?” Wirt asked her and she didn’t detect any spitefulness in his question. He genuinely wanted to know and would probably start adding this different kind of music to her tapes if that’s what she wanted.

“It doesn’t matter, Wirt. The music is only secondary to your voice anyway,” she replied, deciding to be completely honest, even if it made her feel awkward. At that moment, Beatrice wasn’t playing the part of fake girlfriend. She was speaking from the heart. The music was nice, but the things he said were what she played over and over in the privacy of her room.

“Really?” Wirt sounded surprised.

“Well, yeah … are you so dumb that you didn’t know that already?” Beatrice grumbled through her emotional discomfort. 

Up in the front seat, Sara let out a sound like she thought they were adorable and after that, Beatrice turned away from Wirt to look out the car window. She was pretty sure that her face was red and her pride didn't want either of them seeing that.

While watching the world outside pass by at a fast pace- faster than she'd ever seen before- Beatrice wondered if Wirt’s question even mattered. When she went back home, it was likely that there wouldn’t be any more tapes for her to receive. Her mother would send her away and without Beatrice around to find them, Wirt’s cassettes would pile up at the wall.

The thought of this, reminded Beatrice that she needed to tell Wirt what would happen once her body healed enough to climb back over the wall. It wasn’t something she wanted to share with him though. After listening to a few of his tapes that morning- the ones he admitted were of him falling into a depression over her- Beatrice didn’t think it was in her to break his heart. She wasn’t mentally prepared to go through with it … at least not now. And having that sort of information over Wirt- seeing an end that wasn’t happy for them- pushed a feeling of guilt throughout her body.

That guilt persisted for most of the car ride and it kept Beatrice quiet while Wirt and Sara made conversation. Every so often, Wirt would attempt to bring her back into the mix and she would say something that pertained to the discussion, but Beatrice never offered up anything else. After a while, Wirt stopped trying and that was when another emotion wormed its way in and replaced the guilt. Beatrice became jealous. She was envious of Sara and Wirt’s easy rapport. It was obvious they were friends and Beatrice began to imagine a future where she was alone at finishing school and Wirt was here with Sara. She didn’t like it.

Once they arrived at their destination, Sara left to get the pizza inside, while Wirt stayed behind to help Beatrice. “What’s going on with you?” he asked. “You’re acting like you're mad at me. What did I do?”

“It’s … nothing. You did nothing,” Beatrice replied as Wirt lifted her from the car. “I’m just tense. Sara’s intimidating.”

“Sara?” Wirt almost laughed. “She’s the nicest person I know. You have nothing to worry about.” Beatrice didn’t say anything in reply and Wirt took it as a bad sign, because when he spoke again his voice was panicky. “Beatrice, I don’t know what else I can do. I’m really trying here, but my hands are tied. You can’t stay at my house and Sara is willing to help us.”

“I know, Wirt. I just have a lot on my mind … and Sara, she’s so pretty.” After the words were out of her mouth, Beatrice instantly wanted to take them back.

“What does that even mean? You don’t want to stay with Sara, because-”

“Never mind. Forget it,” Beatrice interrupted and then ordered, “Stop looking at me like that!”

Wirt narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth to say something, but a different voice rose above his. “Hey, need some help?”

Beatrice and Wirt glanced away from each other to see Sara heading towards them. Without waiting for a response, she joined Wirt on Beatrice’s other side and the two helped her wobble towards the house. “It sucks having a twisted ankle. I had one before,” she mentioned to Beatrice as they walked through the door. “Some klutz ran into me while I was wearing my mascot costume. That thing is so big. I didn’t even see him coming.”

“I think the klutz you’re referring to is Jason Fundeberker,” Wirt said. “Best night of my life. It was after that I figured you’d probably never want to date him.”

Sara snorted. “Rude! The best night of your life was me getting hurt?”

“Well, that’s how my mind worked when I saw him as my competition,” Writ admitted. “I don’t know why I ever worried though. That guy …”

“Yeah, Jason, he’s certainly one of a kind.”

“Kind of a dork, you mean,” Wirt derided.

“Hey, so are you, but I thought you were okay enough to date. Maybe I should give Funderberker a try next.”

“Maybe you should,” Beatrice cut in, her voice edgy. It was then that her walking companions remembered she existed. Beatrice saw it dawning on their faces that they had been rudely having a conversation in front of her about when they dated. Sara grimaced and Wirt coughed to cover up his embarrassment.

“Hey, why don’t you take her to the guest bedroom,” Sara told Wirt as she walked towards the stairwell in the foyer. Then turning around, she looked at Beatrice. “I’m sure you want to get out of Wirt’s sweats. I’ll bring some clothes of mine down. We’re about the same size.” Without waiting for a reply from either of them, she ran up the stairs and Beatrice thought her hurried pace was probably due to embarrassment. Good.

Thankfully, the guest bedroom was on the first floor, so there weren’t any stairs to climb, and after Wirt helped her into the room, he sat down beside Beatrice on the bed. The place was pristine, like it was rarely used, and the large bed they shared contained a comforter with a flower pattern that reminded Beatrice of the quilts her mother made back home. As a whole, the bedroom had a soft feminine feel with its many paintings of various garden scenes and landscapes placed upon pale pink walls. Truthfully, it made Beatrice want to puke.

Minutes of silence passed between them and Beatrice eventually felt inclined to say something. She assumed her embarrassing him was the reason he kept quiet. Once her mouth was open though, she couldn’t fight the urge to rub salt into his wound. “So, you knew exactly where this room was. Did you and Sara ever … come in here and …” Beatrice sent him a pointed stare, knowing she was being malicious, but it was almost like another person was doing the talking for her.

“And … what?” In the span of a few seconds, Wirt’s gaze turned from one of questioning to understanding to one of  _really_ understanding. He started to make noises that sounded amused, but Beatrice wasn’t sure, because he didn’t look amused. Not at all. “W-ha-haaat … thaaat?” Wirt finally said, his voice rising to a pitch she had never heard from him before and then devolving back into strange noises again.

Beatrice winced. It was agonizing watching Wirt’s reaction to her question. Even worse, she knew it had been provoked by jealousy. That was a petty emotion he didn’t deserve to feel the brunt of. “Wirt, I’m sorry,” she cut into his incoherent stammering. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business and I don’t think I want to know the answer to be honest.” Reaching out, Beatrice placed both hands on his shoulders and using her good one, she squeezed, in an attempt to pull his attention back to her. When the fear began to slowly leave his face, she lowered her hands and tentatively asked, “Better?”

Wirt responded to her question with a sharp intake of breath that he held for longer than Beatrice thought was healthy. “Wirt! You’re going to pass out!” she shouted and forced the air out of his lungs with a punch to his stomach.

“Ow,” he whined, but after a few seconds, Wirt finally seemed like he was back to normal. Although, coming back down from the panic in his head meant the realization that he had acted like an idiot. Wirt covered his face with his hands in humiliation, issuing an apology to Beatrice through his fingers.

“Okay, but can you say that while also looking at me,” she asked.

“Sorry,” Wirt repeated, lowering the mask he’d created of his hands and Beatrice felt relieved to hear clarity finding its way back into his voice. “I overreacted like I normally do.” He let out a single hard laugh that sounded bitter. “But this is you. I’ve talked to you about Sara before … well, my tapes did, but that doesn’t matter, because I shouldn’t care.”

“Wirt, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine and no, I never did anything with Sara in here or … at all,” he sighed. “Maybe I’m embarrassed less with the subject you brought up and more with my lack of anything when it comes to uh, dating and the things that couples do …” He let his words hang in the air between them and a heavy silence settled in.

Beatrice mentally scolded herself with the type of words that were usually reserved for people like her aunt. She completely regretted the dumb question that had caused Wirt’s panic attack. The jealousy that had caused it wasn’t an emotion she had a right to feel. She wasn’t with Wirt, and Beatrice had created stress for her friend, because of her dumb insecurities. To help deflate the awkwardness left in her question’s wake, she decided to put herself on equal footing with him. “I’ve never either … kissed anyone … or courted even,” Beatrice admitted. “Back home, girls my age are typically groomed by now to find some man to marry, but I never wanted that. I still don’t.”

“You don’t want a boyfriend?” Wirt asked, sounding like a sad child who had just had his favorite toy taken away, and Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh in his face. It was a response Wirt appeared irked by.

“I like boys, but I don’t see why I have to act a certain way to get them to like me back. And I definitely don’t think I have to marry one if I don’t want to,” Beatrice explained, a flush of anger passing through her.

“I-I don’t think you should have to change for anyone,” Wirt said with such earnestness that it caused a small smile to pull at Beatrice’s lips.

“Yeah, I don’t think so either. I am who I am … punches and all,” Beatrice joked and faked like she was going to hit Wirt. He reeled backward and at first she thought he was just playing along, but second guessed it after seeing the serious look on his face. “I wasn’t really going to punch you,” Beatrice said.

“I know,” Wirt replied defensively. “But you have to admit your track record doesn’t exactly bode well for me.”

Beatrice sighed and let her vision fall to her hands in her lap. When she continued to talk her voice was somber. “You know, I did change for you though.”

“Huh?” was Wirt’s less than articulate response and Beatrice chuckled.

“Well, I changed for myself. But you and Greg were the ones that pushed me in that direction. I realized I didn’t always treat others, uh ... nice. You especially. So I made a choice to work harder on that part of me that tends to be unpleasant to others. I know I have a long way to go, but at least I’m trying.” Beatrice was still looking at her hands when she saw Wirt reach out to grasp one of hers. He then laced his fingers through that hand just as he had done the night before. The sight of their fingers entwined, coupled with the feel of his skin against hers, gave Beatrice the courage to lift her head back up to Wirt.

“Well, you haven’t changed all that much,” he said. “You’re still you. You’re still the Beatrice I first met … a little more human, but still the same. You just made a choice to be nicer, but you couldn’t have done that if it wasn’t already in you. I don’t think people can change if the quality they’re looking for isn't inside them at all.” Wirt paused and his expression changed from thoughtful to sheepish. “Heh, did that sound as lame to you as it did to me?”

Beatrice giggled. “Not at all. Very inspiring.”

“Now you’re just messing with me.” Wirt rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m not,” Beatrice refuted, trying her hardest to sound sincere, but coming across as petulant instead and after that, Wirt seemed to accept that she was telling the truth.

Silence passed over them again, but it wasn’t like before. There was no awkwardness to it. Beatrice and Wirt simply stared at each other, waiting. For what, she didn’t know, but then she felt his hand trembling in hers as he released his hold, bringing his fingers up to gently touch her hair. Part of Beatrice wanted to make a joke and ask if he would like to braid her hair. Another part- the one that was causing her blood to rush through her veins at a rapid pace- wanted him to place that hand around her neck and bring her in for a kiss. But whatever Wirt was planning on doing, he lost his courage. She could see it drain from his eyes and then he lowered his hand.

But Beatrice wasn’t willing to lose the moment. Letting emotions dictate her actions, she imitated what she had visualized Wirt doing to her. Pulling on his neck, Beatrice brought his mouth to hers for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no love triangle. I hate those. Just thought I'd give you all a heads up.


	14. Chapter 14

_Wait … what? Am I kissing a girl? Is she kissing me? What do I do? Should I open my mouth? No, that’s too um, I don’t know how to do that stuff. I don’t know how to do any of this stuff. Should I put my arms around her waist, her shoulders, in her hair? Wow she smells amazing._

“Wirt?” Beatrice’s mouth was still pressed up against his as she spoke, making the sound of his name mumbled.

“What?” He jerked away, expecting a backlash. That was how things usually worked for him. She would probably tell him he was a terrible kisser.

“Why aren’t you kissing me back?” She sounded mad, but her face betrayed her voice. Beatrice looked hurt.

“Wait, wasn’t that … was I not doing that?” Wirt let out a nervous chuckle, provoking a low growl of irritation from Beatrice.

“No, you were _not_ doing that. You weren’t doing anything. I put myself out there and just … nothing,” she huffed.

Wirt knew Beatrice well enough by now to read the cues of her body language as opposed to what she said. The anger she displayed was only there to disguise her pain and his heart sank. He didn’t want to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted. “I’m sorry. You surprised me and I sort of got lost in my head. I was over analyzing it and I guess ...” Wirt paused, trying to gather together the little bits of courage he knew were hidden somewhere inside of him. Occasionally, he called upon this fraction of his personality, but it wasn’t often. The last time had been while facing The Beast. Somehow, even if he knew his situation with Beatrice wasn’t as grim as that, it felt like it was. Maybe even worse. “May I ... can we try that again?” Wirt asked once he found the nerve.

“You mean you want to?” The crease in between Beatrice’s eyebrows disappeared as her eyes widened.

“Of course, it’s … well, if I’m being honest, it’s something I _have_ thought of before.” Wirt was sure that he would start blushing. It was as normal as breathing for him. Say something potentially embarrassing, expect a flushed face. But the normal creep of red he felt so often during his life didn’t appear. He’d found his courage to finally say what had been on his mind since admitting to himself that he liked Beatrice more than a friend and he wasn’t embarrassed; not at all.

“Really? You thought of kissing me before? When?” Beatrice asked, her face expectant.

Wirt glanced away momentarily, feeling uncomfortable. Should he confess that he instantly thought she was beautiful? Would that be too weird for Beatrice? “Uhhh … actually can we just skip the part where I admit I’ve had a crush on you since seeing your first batch of polaroids?”

“What?!” Beatrice looked shocked at first, but that quickly transformed into a pleased expression and as her smile grew, so did his courage.

“Yeah, I thought you were, well ... attractive, but when I found you yesterday in the snow, I was able to put together the two parts of you I like best, your pictures and your tapes. You weren’t this unattainable voice from a tape player anymore. You were real and it made me realize that I really like you.” His words were clear and he didn’t stumble once. Wirt attributed Beatrice for his ability to say exactly how he felt. It was her impulsive nature. If she hadn’t made the first move, he probably wouldn’t have been able to expose the vulnerable part of him he usually kept locked away.

“Okay, since this is honesty hour, I have to say that I feel the same way,” Beatrice replied.

“ _Obviously_ , you kissed me,” Wirt laughed and he was amazed at his ability to joke about it. Beatrice did that to him. She made him feel at ease.

“I did,” Beatrice admitted proudly, “because you weren’t going to. Please, don’t tell me I’m going to have to instigate every kiss between us.”

“Every kiss? Were you planning on making this a regular thing?” And there it was, that ever present blush. For some reason the idea of more than one kiss with her made his head spin.

Beatrice’s expression had been playful, but after seeing his reaction she pulled back. “I didn’t mean to push you. I’m sorry. I know things are complicated right now. You're right. We should wait.”

Wirt shook his head. “I never said we should wait. Don’t you know me by now? I’m always in a constant state of flustered no matter what.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s kind of cute,” Beatrice giggled.

Wirt groaned. “Cute? I’m not a teddy bear, you know.”

“No, you’re not,” she replied ruefully. “You’re, Wirt, this stupid dork that writes sappy poetry and plays the clarinet, who for some reason, I really like … a lot.”

Wirt decided to play along, hoping his tease wouldn’t anger her. “And you’re Beatrice, this temperamental hothead that likes to punch things, who for some reason, I really like a lot.”   

To Wirt’s relief she wasn’t mad. Beatrice only laughed through her response, “That’s true. I am those things.” Then her voice turned almost wistful as she said, “We’re so different, but that doesn’t matter so much, does it?”

Wirt thought for a moment, trying to recall the words of a poem he’d memorized before, then clearing his throat he recited, “If fear was plucky, and globes were square, and dirt was cleanly and tears were glee, things would seem fair. Yet they'd all despair, for if here was there. We wouldn't be we.”

“What?” Beatrice said, trying to hold back a laugh, clearly not expecting their conversation to take a turn into poetry.

“It’s part of a poem,” Wirt replied, looking shamefaced, “by EE Cummings. The words were about opposites. I thought it fit our situation.”

Beatrice expression shifted into a coy smile. “Maybe one day you can recite your own poetry about us.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, not mentioning that while she slept the night before he’d penned a few verses of exactly that. Only then they were words to try and help him work through his confused feelings for Beatrice and now … Wirt wasn’t sure what they were now. Maybe a prediction for their future.

As Beatrice continued to stare at him, Wirt saw her smile slowly beginning to fade and in its place was an expression he could clearly read. This time when she leaned in to kiss him, he was ready. But even if Wirt was mentally prepared the second time around, that didn’t mean he knew what to do, and the same was true for Beatrice. They were sloppy at first, unsure of how to make kissing work. Both Wirt and Beatrice awkwardly giggled through false starts and once groaned when their teeth came into contact with each other’s. He apologized a few times, but shut up when Beatrice told him to, “Stop ruining it by talking.”

Hands went out and were moved into various positions. Once Wirt’s fingers pulled through a tangle in her hair causing Beatrice to make a small noise of pain. After that he decided to keep his hands out of her forest of curls. Finally after many wrong turns, they settled comfortably into Beatrice’s arms being around his neck and Wirt’s hands placed on either side of her waist. Then slowly the two were able to find a rhythm of soft kisses that grew bolder as time stood still for them.

Because of that time cessation, Wirt wasn’t clear on how long they had been kissing, but there was a moment as their mouths moved where Wirt could sense Beatrice was about to lean herself backwards. As much as he would have liked to go along with her and experience further all the new sensations he was feeling, his brain flashed a warning sign to him. They were still in Sara’s house. She could come back at any moment and even if Beatrice and Wirt had been pretending to date, he didn’t want Sara to stumble upon a scene that might make her uncomfortable. As cool as Sara could be about things, he was sure that finding her ex in a compromising situation, might not be the best way to stay in her good graces. And he needed to be on Sara’s good side for Beatrice’s sake. It would take Beatrice at least three days before she would be able to walk on her own again and that was the hopeful prognosis.

“We need ...” Wirt breathed, but was unable to finish his sentence. He just really wanted to keep kissing her.

“We need what?” Beatrice pulled away for a second to speak coherently, but then pressed her lips against his again.

Wirt struggled against what he wanted as opposed to what he needed to do and failed miserably. It wasn't until Beatrice used her arms around his neck as leverage to pull him down that he finally found his voice. “We need to stop!” Wirt said, jerking away to sit up.

Beatrice froze in her reclined position and looked up at Wirt. “Wha-what’s wrong,” she asked, breathlessly.

“We can’t do this here. Sara. She could come in and, and we need- I just need to have a second to calm down.” Wirt was falling over his words, not exactly sure how to explain things to Beatrice, but thankfully, she seemed understanding.

“Yeah, I guess we got carried away,” Beatrice said, sitting up. “I wasn’t really thinking.” Reaching with her good hand, she pushed her hair out of her face. “You look flushed,” she commented on Wirt’s appearance after her stray red stands were tucked securely behind her ears.

“So, do you,” Wirt pointed out and Beatrice glanced down at her freckled skin. When she looked back up at him, her mouth grew into a smile that ultimately turned into laughter. It was contagious, and Wirt found himself joining in. Before long, they were both cracking up, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe to shake off the significance of what had happened between them? When he was able to stop laughing long enough to talk clearly, Wirt found himself asking, “What’s so funny?”

Beatrice wiped some tears of mirth away from her eyes and then shrugged. “Me, you, us … I don’t know. Everything that has taken place since yesterday feels like some weird dream. I’m wondering if what’s really happened is that I cried myself to sleep and this whole thing is just my mind trying to ease the pain of what will happen when I wake up.”

“What’s going to happen?” Wirt asked.

Beatrice had a distant look in her eyes for a moment, before replying, “I’ll get in trouble for cursing at my aunt and cousin.”

“Hmmm, can’t be too bad of a punishment. You probably swear at them all the time,” Wirt taunted, but Beatrice didn’t appear amused by his playful mocking and realizing he’d stepped over some invisible line, Wirt added, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I know I’ll have to tell you about them sooner or later. I’d rather it be later though,” she sighed.

The room grew quiet for a moment and Wirt wondered what exactly it was Beatrice needed to tell him about her aunt and cousin. It wasn’t the first time she had shut him down when he tried to ask about what had happened back at home. Why had she been crying? The thought of that made Wirt angry at this cousin and aunt he didn’t even know. In the end though, he put his questions aside and instead asked, “So, what now?”

_How do we come back after an intimacy like that?_

Beatrice looked hesitant, but when a knock at the door made her jump, she answered, “I get changed and we eat some pizza with Sara.”


	15. Chapter 15

Beatrice and Wirt were sitting with Sara around her dining room table, eating pizza in a strained quiet. It seemed only Beatrice and Sara noticed though, because Wirt was off in his head somewhere. Staring at him, Beatrice wondered if he was reliving their kisses. There was definitely a dreamy far off look in his eyes as he chewed his food, but she wasn’t about to ask him. Not with Sara nearby anyway. Things were weird enough already.

Whatever the reason for Wirt’s lack of conversation, it left Beatrice and Sara in the awkward situation of having to talk one on one. That wasn’t so easy considering Beatrice's jealousy from before that had mushroomed out onto all three of them. Now she was no longer jealous and had to make amends. “So, Sara, what does _Blondie_ mean?” Beatrice asked.

“Huh?” Sara responded, staring up from the dark fizzy liquid in her cup. She had been looking at it for most of their lunch.

“ _Blondie_ , the word on your shirt I’m wearing.” Beatrice made a sweeping motion across her chest to showcase the letters on the fabric. Sara had given Beatrice four of her own outfits, items that included shirts, something called leggings, and undergarments that were passed to Beatrice when Wirt wasn’t looking. She had chosen to wear the Blondie shirt and was now using it as the catalyst for a conversation.

“Oh, yeah,” Sara said, her dark brown eyes coming into focus. “It’s a band from a long time ago, before I was born.” She stopped talking for a second, as if in thought and then added, “Wirt told me how restrictive your parents are, but I’m surprised you’ve never heard of them.”

Beatrice shrugged, not sure how to explain her way out of Sara’s observation.

“Sara has a thing for 80s music. So weird,” Wirt interjected disdainfully, coming out of his coma. Leave it to music to be a stronger pull for him than reliving them kissing.

“What the hell, Wirt? You are in love with _Morrissey_ and I think his heyday was with _The Smiths_ , back in the uhhh what was it? Oh yeah, 1980s,” Sara countered, a teasing smile on her face as she tried to bait him into an argument.

The two of them then began a back and forth about music, debating the merits and shortcomings of bands and musicians from whatever this 1980s was. It left Beatrice feeling small. This was a part of Wirt she couldn’t share with him, at least not yet, and after a few minutes, she began to regret ever having asked who _Blondie_ was. “Beatrice, you know _Morrissey_ ,” Wirt suddenly said and reached out to tap her arm.

Feeling ignored, Beatrice had taken to staring down at the half eaten ends of pizza left on her plate, but his touch prompted her to look up. “I do?”

“I put him on a few of your tapes. Remember that song about the cemetery gates?”

She nodded, thankful for Wirt’s obvious attempt at bringing her back into the discussion. “Yeah, you said it reminded you of me.”

“Wait. Am I missing something? Cemetery gates remind you of Beatrice? That’s … _unique_ ,” Sara said with a chuckle, ending her sentence with the inflection of a question even if it wasn’t.

“Well, not technically. We met near one. That’s all,” Wirt clarified.

Sara nodded and then there was a short break in the conversation. For some reason that gap unnerved Beatrice, but it wasn't until Sara spoke again that she understood why. “That reminds me, how exactly did you two meet if you’re from Pennsylvania?” Naturally, if Wirt brought up where they met, Sara would want to know more.

In response to her question, Wirt did a very Wirt thing and panicked. He stuffed his face with pizza to avoid speaking, which didn't make Beatrice too happy. She sent him a disgruntled look before clearing her throat to answer Sara. “Well, actually …” she began, but paused to pull in a slow breath, working up the courage to tell an altered version of the truth. A moment later, she began the slow dance of improvisation. “See what Wirt isn’t telling you is that I’ve run away before.”

“Oh, wow, really?” Sara seemed genuinely surprised.

Beatrice nodded. “A few months ago I did the same thing I did yesterday, got on a bus and ended up here. I was running away from my problems and I came across Wirt and Greg. After I failed to scam them into helping me for the wrong reasons, Wirt actually did help me. He convinced me to go back home and in the process we exchanged address, so ... here we are.”

Wirt looked at Beatrice, his mouth still stuffed to the brim with food. He nodded like he was impressed. “But you ran away again,” Sara mentioned, bringing Beatrice’s attention back to her.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Beatrice pushed down so hard with her teeth that the salty taste of blood dripped onto her tongue. “Mmmhmmm,” she mumbled.

“So, why are you back?”

Beatrice looked to Wirt who stared at her, a blank expression on his face as he chewed his food. Then she glanced to Sara again. Her stomach roiled at the thought of telling the truth. Doing that would bring other people into her problem and one of them was Wirt, who had some stake in her being sent away now. They had kissed after all. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it meant they were more than just friends. Beatrice didn’t want to hurt Wirt, but was exhausted of all the tiptoeing around the truth with him and Sara. Maybe if she told some of the story it wouldn’t be so bad. “They were talking about sending me away. Well, my mother and her sister were. Apparently I don’t fit into their nice little box of how a woman should be,” Beatrice sighed and stared at her pizza ends again.

“Wow, I guess my _Romeo and Juliet_ analogy wasn’t far off,” Sara said, elbows on the table with her head resting in her hands like she was anticipating more. “Where were they going to send you?

“Finishing school, to make me a _lady."_ She infused her last word with bitter sarcasm.

“Finishing school? Didn’t know those still existed,” Sara commented, letting Beatrice know her original guess back home had been right. Finishing schools weren’t a problem for girls over on Wirt’s side of the wall. Girls like her could probably get away with being themselves here.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Wirt finally joined the conversation after choking down the last bit of food in his mouth. He sounded surprised and also upset. “Are you- is this really what happened with your aunt and cousin? The story you wouldn’t tell me?”

Beatrice shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about all the details right now, Wirt. I was just answering Sara’s question.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Why won’t you tell me? I want to help.”

“You can’t help me. This is something I have to deal with on my own,” she forcefully replied.

“By running away?” Wirt asked and Beatrice sent him an angry look, before using her uninjured foot to kick his leg under the table. Wirt groaned, but didn’t back down. “Are you going to go home and get sent away? Was your trip here just to say goodbye?”

There was a small amount of alarm in Wirt’s voice that Beatrice could sense wouldn't go away unless she gave him some sort of answer, so she relented. “I don’t know, Wirt. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll probably have to go home. I told Henry I would, but obviously, it’s not something I’m looking forward to,” she lamented with a sad sigh. “ _Now_ don’t you see why I didn’t want to tell you? I don’t want … I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt myself by imagining what I’ll have to give up if I go back.” Her voice was starting to waver, like it would break if she continued to talk, and Beatrice turned away from Wirt. She didn’t want to cry and look like an idiot, especially in front of Sara. She would have rather felt anger and hit something. Anger was more familiar. It stayed with her for less time. Unlike sadness … that emotion had a way of seeping into her bones and remaining.

At first Wirt didn’t say anything. Then after a few seconds, he scooted his chair closer to Beatrice's, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him bringing his arm near her, but then pulling it back. He repeated this motion a few times, and seeing his dorky ambivalence of how to handle her sadness almost brought Beatrice out of her gloom. He was such an adorable nerd. Finally, Wirt garnered enough courage and his arm came to rest around her shoulders. Slowly, he used it to guide Beatrice into him and she let her head fall onto his chest. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it now or uh, ever,” Wirt said. “We can just act like everything’s fine. Whatever you want. We could even talk about the weather or um, boring things that have no meaning to us, like … insects. I used to collect them. Then I’d kill them and put them on displays I made out of cardboard. When I was a kid, that is. It’s not something I do now. That would be weird. But I do have lots of useless knowledge about insects.” He was droning on due to his nervousness and Beatrice snorted.

“Wirt, I used to eat bugs,” she groaned into his chest, for only him to hear. “Don’t remind me of that, please.”

“Sorry … sorry. Shutting up.”

After his apology, the room became quiet as Beatrice ignored the world and let Wirt hold her. In his embrace, her emotions steadied while listening to the rhythm of his heart thrumming like a metronome under her ear. She was vaguely aware of Sara clearing away the mess of their lunch, but it wasn’t until she came to stand next to them, that Beatrice paid any attention. “Soooo, who’s up for playing some violent video games to shock us out of this sad and very awkward situation I caused with my question.”

Beatrice pulled her head away from Wirt, suddenly remembering that there was an audience for her private interaction with him. “Video games?” she inquired.

“Oh man … you don’t even know about video games?” Sara sounded incredulous. “Come on, let Wirt and I show you the ropes.” She held out her hand and Beatrice took it. Wirt then came to stand on her other side and together they moved as one out of the dining area.

* * *

 

As luck would have it, playing video games meant using a controller to move things inside a TV, an impossible task when you had a twisted wrist. Beatrice tried using her other hand, but controlling something she knew little about, proved a challenge too great for her. After a few tries, Beatrice relinquished the device to Wirt and settled on being spectator to the characters inside the TV that did various horrible things to creatures called zombies. But not long afterward, Wirt glanced at her siting on the floor beside him and said, “Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

Wirt didn’t give her a reason, he just grasped Beatrice’s hand and pressed down her index finger on one of the controller’s colored buttons. “Hit this here when you see a zombie and I’ll do everything else.”

Beatrice grumbled, but did as he said and before long they were working together as a team. She was beginning to have fun and felt a deep sense of satisfaction when they were able to stay alive longer than Sara. “You two are cheating,” Sara accused, while throwing down her controller, having died for the last time.

“Beatrice and I just work better together than when we’re apart,” Wirt mentioned, but then his eyes widened as he realized his sentence could also be construed as a reference to his predicament with Beatrice. “That wasn’t meant to, I wasn’t trying to … I was only, uh, well ...” words failed him and when that happened it was either humorous or painful for Beatrice to watch. This time it was painful.

“Wirt, it’s okay. Don’t act like you have to walk on eggshells with me. I’m fine,” Beatrice spoke over his stammering and then leaned in to briefly kiss him. When she pulled back, he had a blush on his face and a self-satisfied smirk broke free on her lips.

They played a few more games, using the same system of them as a team, until Wirt pulled out his phone to look at. “Oh no! I lost track of time. We have to get going, Sara. Greg will be at the bus stop soon.”

Beatrice frowned. “When will you come back?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring them both back here. I’ll even babysit Greg for you two. I think I have some Christmas candy left over to occupy him with,” Sara said. “You two need to take as many chances as you can to be together while you’re still here.”

“Thanks,” Beatrice replied, wondering how she could have ever been jealous of Sara before. At this point she was basically facilitating her relationship with Wirt.

Beatrice was brought to the couch with the help of Wirt, while Sara showed her how to use the TV remote. She had seen a TV before in Wirt’s room, but this would be her first time using it on her own. “I’ll be back,” Wirt said, bending down to kiss her on the mouth. When they separated he joked, “See, I can initiate kisses too.”

“Only because I’m a good teacher at being assertive,” Beatrice replied and reached around his neck to pull him down for one more.

“Okay, break it up,” Sara teased and Beatrice let go of Wirt.

They said goodbye to each other, and she watched as Wirt left the room with Sara. Then after a few minutes, her ears caught the sound of a car starting and driving away.

Beatrice tried watching TV until they returned, but ended up only half paying attention. Mostly she observed people on screen that were supposed to be funny. She knew, because loud laughter always erupted from somewhere after a funny thing supposedly occurred. She didn’t think anything happening in the TV deserved _that_ much laughter and assumed those amused unseen people were idiots. Eventually this became more of a nuisance than distraction and she pressed down the off button on the remote.

Trying to distract herself with something else, Beatrice scanned the room and took in its decor. It was more pale pinks and flowers similar to the theme in the guest bedroom. Beatrice wondered who had decorated so much of Sara's home with such an ugly color. She hated the color pink. But after a while even this wasn’t enough and Beatrice couldn’t stop herself from delving into the thoughts she had pushed aside as a means of mental self-preservation. The ones that asked what would happen after she healed? Would the eventual parting of ways between her and Wirt be the end of them or would he wait for her while she attended finishing school? Asking him to wait that long without any form of communication linking them together, wouldn’t be fair. It would be like him courting a ghost.

A sudden stab of unhappiness spread through Beatrice as she remembered their first kiss and the many that had followed. Had she only made things worse for them? Or was it worth the risk, because at least they knew. No matter what happened to them in the future, there would be no wondering.

When Beatrice finally heard the familiar sound of Sara’s car again, she tried to block the thoughts that would only make her time with Wirt painful. She wanted to enjoy him while he was still available to her and not wallow in things that were out of her hands. But when only Sara entered the room moments later, Beatrice’s heart sank. “Where’s Wirt?”

“He’s in trouble … for skipping school. Apparently, the school called his mom and she didn’t take it as well as my dad usually does. He’s now at home with her getting lectured,” Sara grimaced, sitting down besides Beatrice on the couch. “I’m sorry. It was my idea. I sometimes forget that other parents aren’t like my dad. He pretty much lets me do whatever I want.”

Beatrice wasn’t happy, but what could she do? She was basically stuck with Sara now for the rest of the day and had no choice, but to accept it. Her only other option was to pout and make it awkward between them. She wasn’t willing to go down that road again. “I can call him on the phone, right?”

“Sure, anytime. Here, you can use mine,” Sara said without pause and pulled her phone from her pocket, handing it to Beatrice.

She took the device and laid it in her lap. “Thanks, but I think I’ll wait. If he’s in trouble with his mother then I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

Sara nodded. “You’re probably right,” she agreed and then went quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry too, for what happened before,” Sara finally said, looking down at her hands at first, but then lifting her head. “When we were walking into the house the first time and I made you feel left out.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Beatrice replied, surprised at how quickly she was willing to let go of something that had made her blood boil before. “You’re friends. It’s only natural for you to have conversations I can’t be a part of, because I don’t live here.” Beatrice looked down at the phone in her lap and ran her fingers over the front. “I was just jealous,” she admitted quietly.

“I know. I should have been more careful. Sometimes I’m too friendly for my own good,” Sara sighed.

Beatrice’s eyes were still down, locked on the phone. “Why didn’t it … if you two get along so well, why didn’t it work out?” Wirt had sent her tapes explaining how things just weren’t what he had expected them to be, but Beatrice wanted to know her version. Why hadn’t it worked for Sara?

“Is that something you really want to hear? I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to upset you.” Sara’s voice was wary.

Beatrice nodded and her eyes flicked up. She could handle hearing about Wirt being with someone else, because, in the end, she knew he had chosen her. “Okay,” Sara said, drawing out the word as if giving Beatrice the chance to back out. “When Wirt first told me he liked me, I was curious more than anything else. He’s nice, mostly quiet, but I thought I would try to see if there was anything there. And there was. We found out we had a lot in common, but …” she paused and made a face like the next words she said would be uncomfortable for her. “I wasn’t attracted to him. It felt more like a brother sister relationship and I think Wirt realized that too.” Sara hesitated and then added, “Or maybe he was just distracted, thinking about you.”

Beatrice laughed loudly at the thought of Wirt dreaming of her when all he had to go on was an image of a bluebird. “Hardly,” she managed to choke out.

“Why do you say that? You’re so pretty,” Sara complimented and Beatrice forced herself not to roll her eyes. Sara was just being kind. “Look, I know it’s not my place, like _at all_ , but I can tell Wirt really cares about you. This situation that you guys are in, there has to be a way out. You should talk to him. Maybe he can go home with you and convince your parents not to send you away. He’s a clean cut guy. Parents typically like boyfriends like that.”

“Impossible,” Beatrice replied. It was something she _had_ thought of before, but in the end the idea was abandoned. Even if Wirt insisted on going, she wouldn’t let him. He carried too much pain with him from when he was on her side of the wall before. Wirt could barely mention it without his voice breaking. “Wirt went through too much before. I would never ask him to go back,” Beatrice said without thinking.

“Back? He’s been to Pennsylvania before? I thought you said you ran away and met him here.” Sara’s voice was cynical, like she was starting to see all the holes in the stories Beatrice and Wirt had been telling her.

Swearing under her breath, Beatrice looked away from Sara, focusing instead on one of the pink walls adorned with flowers. “Who decorated this room,” she asked, trying to divert Sara’s attention.

“My mom.”

“Oh, you haven’t mentioned your mother before,” Beatrice said, still looking away.

“Because she’s dead,” Sara replied.

The revelation of Sara’s mother being deceased, shocked Beatrice into looking back at her. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It was a long time ago, but Dad’s never redecorated. He refuses.” 

Beatrice began to feel guilty about all her negative thoughts on the decor and swallowed a lump stuck in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, not sure what else to say.

A quiet settled over them that was stifling and Beatrice let out a breath of relief when Sara finally broke it by asking, “Okay, now that I’ve shared something about myself with you, can you share something in return?”

“What do you want?” Beatrice’s voice was nearly a whisper. She didn’t have to hear Sara’s response to know what her question would be, but even if Beatrice told the truth, would Sara believe her?

“What is the _real_ story about you and Wirt? I know what you two have been telling me isn’t the whole truth.”

* * *

[Link ](http://8tracks.com/pixiestickers/if-you-re-lonely-press-play)to IYLPP playlist on 8tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try not to add too many pop culture reference to this story, because I'd rather it not feel dated, but I have this head canon that if otgw had taken place in the 80s that Wirt would have been a huge fan of The Smiths. A little while ago I created a playlist on 8tracks for this fic and added The Smiths song mentioned in this chapter. (link above)


	16. Chapter 16

When it came to Wirt’s relationship with his mom, he beat the stereotype. There was no slamming of doors, name calling, or yelling about how she _just didn’t understand._ He got along with her well enough and stayed out of trouble. He might have issues with his stepdad, but even Wirt knew those weren’t based on anything he did. They were just extensions of his feelings on him not being his biological father. Which in the end was probably a good thing. Wirt’s real dad was a deadbeat he rarely heard from. His stepdad might not know how to relate with him, but at least he was there.

Being that straitlaced kid who never did anything against the rules, meant he wasn’t prepared for his mom’s reaction when he actually did do something teenage clichéd like skipping school. Wirt was thrown when she called his phone, telling him she knew he’d left school and that he needed to come home _now_. Dread had filled him and he turned to Sara for help. “What do I do?”

“Just blame me,” she offered after a few seconds of thinking. “It was my suggestion we leave anyway.”

Wirt latched onto Sara’s idea and tried to form it into something better than just-  _she told me to do it._ That excuse would only work if he were three. As a sixteen year old, blaming Sara was something that needed to be elaborated on in order to be convincing.

“Good luck,” Sara had said from her rolled down car window after dropping him off.

He nodded wearily to her and walked into his house. His mom was standing near the doorway with her arms folded across her chest and she ordered him into their dining room. They sat down at the table and then she played the _I’m so disappointed in you_ card instead of the angry, _you’re grounded_ one he’d been expecting. Seeing the sad expression on her face, caused Wirt’s plan to finally form in his head. He would twist her emotions to his advantage. The thought of manipulating his mom didn’t leave Wirt feeling proud, but there wasn’t much time with Beatrice left. He needed to do all he could to make sure that little window with her wasn’t taken from him. So, Wirt dealt his mom an excuse he knew she would sympathize with. “Sara broke up with me,” he said mournfully, making sure to let his voice tremble.

“Oh, Wirt,” she sighed in dismay, clasping her hands over her heart.

“And she wanted to do it off campus.”

“Why did she want that?” his mom asked, concern for her little boy drenching her question.

Wirt dug in. If he was going to play hard, he had to use everything at his disposal. Even if it made him look dumb. “She thought I might cry.” Wirt covered his eyes, pretending to do what he’d mentioned and his mom instantly left her chair to pull him into a hug.

“It’s okay, honey,” she fussed over him, nearly crushing his body in her arms. “Most people don’t stay with the person from their first relationship. In fact, I actually had a few relationships in high school that ended badly, so I know exactly what you’re going through.”

Wirt detected a reflective tone in his mom’s voice, indicating she might start going down memory lane and segue into a conversation he wouldn’t be comfortable with … like her dating life. To avoid that possibility, he pretended to sob loudly into her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh,” she tried to comfort as he wailed. “Hey, listen, why don’t you go to your room until you feel better and I’ll go pick Greg up. We can talk later.”

Wirt nodded and pulling away, he hid his face from her, before she could detect that there weren’t any actual tears in his eyes. “Okay,” he said in a weak voice and then bolting towards the stairs, he raced into his room. Behind the closed door, Wirt exhaled loudly as relief washed over him. It had been so easy to worm his way out of any repercussions for skipping school, giving him one less thing to worry about. And at that moment there were so many worries competing for top priority inside his head. Still despite this, one thought managed to elbow its way past them all and it had nothing to do with worry. Wirt wanted to sleep.

His body and mind were drained and even if he was well aware that there were other things that should have taken precedence, his exhaustion took over. _I’ll just take a short nap_ Wirt told himself. He needed one to help him think straight anyway.

On his way to the bed, Wirt passed his dresser and paused. Sitting atop it was Beatrice’s dress. Without putting much thought into what he was doing, he grasped the blue fabric and laid down with it on his bed. Her scent was still in the fibers and he inhaled it, remembering how amazing she had smelled while they were kissing. Wirt was well aware he was being weird, but at the same time didn’t care. He was too tired and within minutes began drifting off with images of Beatrice behind his eyelids.

* * *

 

Wirt opened his eyes on a familiar place, subconsciously aware that he must be dreaming, but wishing he wasn’t, because _she_ was with him. They were on her side of the wall. Another person might not have noticed the difference in the scene from his world to hers, but Wirt knew. The smells, the sounds, the very feel of the air was changed.

And Beatrice was there.

They were reclined on a blanket laid over some grass and she was smiling, then laughing. Her fire red hair was down and wind swept. Wirt reached out to run a hand through it and once his fingers reached the base of her neck, he gently pulled Beatrice in for a kiss. She kissed him back and a sense of contentment swallowed him whole. There wasn’t anything else he wanted more at that moment than her.

But it didn't last. She pulled away, leaving him feeling cold. “Wirt, I have to go.”

“Why?” he asked, trying to take her hand, but she was already standing. Even in his dream he knew what was happening. Beatrice was being sent away. She didn’t reply and began walking towards some trees off in the distance. Wirt ran after her trying to yell out, but no sound emanated from his mouth.

Time progressed in slow motion as she moved further away from him and Wirt felt powerless to stop her. Then suddenly a darkness surrounded him and he couldn’t see Beatrice anymore. He continued to attempt her name as he ran through the thick blackness, but stumbled and fell hard to the earth. A deep voice, one so familiar, because it had haunted his dreams for weeks after he’d returned home from Beatrice’s world, rang in his ears. Where he was now no longer resembled a dream, but a nightmare and Wirt desperately wanted to get away. “Wake up!” he yelled, his vocal chords finding him again, and the darkness immediately swirled away, leaving him blinking against the brightness of the light in his room.

Wirt was breathing heavily with sweat covering his entire body. One quick glance at his clock told him that three hours had passed. Then looking to his side he saw Beatrice’s dress, still folded next to him. It must have been what had conjured the horrible images in his dream. Wirt had told Beatrice he wouldn’t mention her getting sent away, but that didn’t mean he could avoid his brain from reminding him. Especially when he had little control over it while sleeping.

He sat up, feeling dizzy, but thankfully not enough to faint. Wirt didn’t want to go back to a place that was filled with darkness and shuddered at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d had a nightmare about Beatrice’s side of the wall and before today they had always been about Greg. Now it was someone else he was worried about and it frustrated him to no end that she would be going back there. Not only that, Beatrice wanted him to accept her being sent away without any argument. Wirt knew he could do that now, but when the day came for her to go back, he wouldn’t let her leave without pleading his case. There had to be a way to work it out. He just wasn’t sure how.

Wirt decided that trying to nap again wasn’t what he wanted after his nightmare, and groaning loudly, he stood. A shower to help clear his head and the sweat away was what he needed. But it didn’t help his emotional state any when he opened the shower curtain and saw the drain clogged with long red strands that had been left behind by Beatrice. He remembered her brushing her hair earlier that afternoon and him seeing it down for the first time. It made him want to rush back to Sara’s, but he knew that was impossible and with a dejected sigh he removed the clump of hair and took a shower.

When he entered his room again, feeling refreshed, but just as confused as before, Wirt saw the dress still on his bed. He went to pick it up and remove it out of sight just in case his mom came in, but when he lifted it, something fell from inside the folds of material. A white envelope he’d seen before- more worn now, but still intact- laid on his comforter. Wirt tossed Beatrice’s dress into his backpack and went to do the same with the letter. She'd told him not to read it, and at first Wirt intended on following through, but as his hand held the letter, he found himself thinking about his dream. The image of Beatrice leaving him sent a stab of sadness into his heart and it prompted Wirt to open the envelope. He wanted see the side of her that for some reason she wanted to keep hidden.

_Dear Wirt,_

_I wish I had the ability to say these words out loud like you do, but despite my best efforts to recite my poem on tape, I can’t get past my fear of sounding like an idiot. I may seem like I know it all, but mostly it’s bravado to make you like me. I don’t know the first thing about poetry. I only pretended to, because I knew it was something you cared about and I cared about you. But, I would like to think I’ve learned something from your poems and to show my appreciation for our friendship, I wanted to put myself out there for you. Please, if this sounds terrible don’t tell me. Don’t mention this to me on one of your return tapes even if you think it’s good. Act as if I never sent this. I would rather it be something you kept in your heart, for better or worse, and try to remember that my intentions were pure._

Instead of letting his eyes continue on down the paper, Wirt looked away and folded the letter back into its envelope. It wasn’t as if he had no interest in seeing what Beatrice had written for him. In fact, it took every ounce of self-control he had not to keep on reading. Still, he knew from his own experiences with writing poetry, how personal it could be and if Beatrice wasn’t ready for him to see it, then he would respect that. Wirt hoped she would eventually let him experience her artistry, especially since their future together was undetermined, but he wanted it to be on her terms.

Once the envelope was put next to her dress inside his backpack, Wirt pulled out his phone to call Sara. It was something he should have done already, but sleep had taken over. Then his disturbing dream had derailed him even further. When someone finally answered on the other end it wasn’t the owner of the phone. “Hey, thanks for abandoning me,” Beatrice spoke, her voice facetious, but with just enough truth in her words for Writ to detect. She wasn’t happy, but also didn’t blame him.

“Sorry. Things got complicated. I think I worked it out though. I told my mom Sara broke up with me. She was so full of pity that she wasn’t able to be upset at me anymore.”

“Well, nice of you to finally end that relationship considering you’re in a new one,” Beatrice teased.

“Are we … is this –me and you- a relationship?” Wirt hadn’t wanted to say anything before, considering the obstacles they faced and Beatrice’s insistence that they live in denial about her being sent away. He had wondered though … were they technically dating now?

“I don’t know,” Beatrice replied, her voice growing thoughtful. “I’ve never done this before, but I also don’t just kiss anyone, you know. So, it has to mean something, don’t you think?”

“Well, what do you want to do? Can I ask you to be my girlfriend?”

She surprised him by laughing. Not exactly the response he had hoped for. “Did you just ask me if you could ask another question?”

Wirt sighed. “Beatrice, do you want to date,” he said brusquely and she laughed again.

“Sure, let’s give this dating thing a try.”

Wirt smiled. So they were a couple now, or at least for the next few days. After that, who knew? “I’ll come over tomorrow as soon as I can. Getting back there is all I can think about right now.”

“I wish you could stay here tonight, and hold my hand again while I sleep,” Beatrice said, and Wirt felt himself flushing.

“Y-you knew about that?” He was mortified.

She chuckled on the other end. “Why are you embarrassed? Hand holding isn’t exactly on the same level as what we did this afternoon.”

Beatrice was right, but Wirt couldn’t stop from feeling self conscious that she knew. “Where’s Sara?” he asked, changing the subject.

“She was in here a second ago. Her father called and said he would be working late. Told her to order Chinese Food. Whatever that is. I think she went to look for takeout menus in the kitchen or something.”

“Oh, tell her to get you moo goo gai pan. I think you’ll like that,” Wirt suggested, causing Beatrice to snicker.

“What kind of name is that?” she asked. “This must be a trick. You just want me to say something dumb in front of her for your own sick amusement.”

“It’s just a different language, Beatrice. Besides, that sounds like something you’d do to me and not vice versa,” he replied and then they both laughed, with her agreeing that he was probably right. “Hey, um, I have a confession to make,” Wirt said, once their laughter died away.

“Oh, a confession, huh?” Beatrice’s voice was playful, but Wirt didn’t think she would continue with that tone after he told her what he had to say.

“Yeah, it’s uh, well, I kinda … I looked at part of your letter to me.”

“Wirt!” His guess had been right. Beatrice said his name with loud disapproval.

“But only part of it,” he defended himself. “I just know that you wrote a poem, not what the actual poem says. Once I realized what it was, I wanted to save it for when you were ready. Or maybe you could even read it to me. Of course, that would be completely your call.”

There was a long drawn out sigh from the other side of the phone that Wirt felt Beatrice was doing for dramatic effect. “Well, even though I think you’re an ass for opening it in the first place after I asked you not to, I appreciate you stopping.” She paused and sighed again. “Wirt, I have a confession too.”

“Oh?”

“I told Sara the truth about you and me,” Beatrice admitted. “Our story was falling apart and she confronted me. I didn’t know what to do.”

Wirt choked back the panic that wanted to take over as he contemplated what Beatrice’s words meant. He didn’t realize though that it also strangled his voice and Beatrice had to say his name a few times to get him to come back to the conversation. “And she didn’t kick you out of her house for being insane?” he finally said.

“No, it was all very weird. She accepted it right away. I know you said people from your world wouldn’t believe, but Sara … I don’t know. There must be something different about her.” Suddenly Wirt heard a faint voice in the background on Beatrice’s end and then her replying, “Yeah, it’s Wirt.”

“Hey, Wirt,” Sara spoke into the phone. “How’d it go with your mom?”

“Uh, okay, I guess. I’m not grounded and managed to only get half a lecture,” he replied, wondering when she would launch into questions about what Beatrice had told her, but she didn’t.

“Oh good. I’m glad we won’t have to work around you being grounded or something similar,” Sara said, without a hint of discomfort he assumed would pass between them after she’d learned the truth about Beatrice. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her reaction just wasn’t logical. “Hey, how good are you at faking sick?” she asked and Wirt snapped back to attention.

“Uh, well, I haven’t done that since elementary school, but I think at this point I’m a highly functional liar, because of Beatrice,” he joked and then added, “Why?”

“Because, I’m going to pick you up tomorrow morning and bring you over here. You’re going to spend your sick day with Beatrice.”

A knock on his door suddenly distracted Wirt and he quickly told Sara he was in on her plan and then ended the call. “Come in,” he said, knowing it was his mom. His stepdad wouldn’t have wanted to deal with a brooding teenager who had just been dumped and Greg never bothered to politely announce his entrance.

“Time for dinner,” she said, peering into his room.

“I’m actually not hungry,” Wirt replied with a frown. “I don’t feel well.” He began his charade.

It wasn’t hard to convince her. He knew his physical appearance wasn’t the best due to exhaustion and she left his room without investigating if his physical symptoms matched his words. For something to eat, Wirt pulled out the left over sack lunch from school he’d ignored due to skipping class. It didn’t fill him up as much as he would have liked, but he would manage.

That night, in an attempt to avoid any more nightmares about Beatrice, Wirt tried to fall asleep while playing music that had no connection to her. It had been hard to find anything at first, considering over the past few months he had found a way to attribute nearly every song to Beatrice. It just so happened that any time Wirt listened to music, she had been on his mind and as a result, he superimposed her image onto every lyric, no matter what was sung.

After dismantling his tower of tapes, Wirt settled on a style that didn’t contain any words for him to link to her and put the tape labeled _classical_ into his cassette player. The soft music of dead composers filled his ears as he settled into bed and slowly it lulled him to the edge of sleep. He was nearly there when a familiar tune began to play, causing Wirt to become alert and then groan loudly into his pillow. The irony was striking.  It was from Prokofiev’s ballet _Romeo and Juliet_. It seemed even without lyrics it was impossible for him to escape thoughts of Beatrice.

Despite his best efforts to prevent his brain from conjuring up images, Wirt’s sleep was not dreamless that night. But unlike the nightmare from his afternoon nap, this time he saw only happy images. They were small glimpses into the life he imagined Beatrice led over on her side of the wall … and he was with her. There was no continuing story line. Just the two of them together and when Wirt woke in the morning a determination set in. He wouldn’t let her go back only to get sent away. As much as it frightened him to return to her world, Wirt decided he would travel back with Beatrice and fight for her.


	17. Chapter 17

The lovely [syrva ](http://syrva.tumblr.com/)contacted me the other day and asked to do some art for iylpp and this was the [result](http://syrva.tumblr.com/post/112817653172/some-quick-ones-of-pixiestickers-story-if-youre). If you don't know her work already, she has done some pretty amazing Wirt/Beatrice art and you should check it out at her tumblr

* * *

Beatrice was staring out the window of the guest bedroom, the night getting away from her. She hadn't intended on staying awake. Wirt had woken her at various times the night before, giving her a broken sleeping pattern that left her body aching for rest. Even now, she kept yawning as her eyes examined the snow covered trees lightened by the full moon above.

But her mind wasn’t so easily persuaded into sleep. It was a mess of different thoughts and eventually they had pulled her out of bed to sit in the chair under the window. At first, Beatrice let her mind indulge in Wirt, wishing she had the ability to be with him for more than only the next few days. But accepting this as an impossibility, led to thoughts about home and facing her parents. By now she assumed they must think their eldest had run away to avoid finishing school, and she imagined every different way returning could play out. She didn’t like that each scenario ended with some form of punishment. Finally her brain wandered to her siblings. Did they notice her absence? Hard for them to miss someone they always fought with.

But then there was Henry.

Yes they quarreled, but it was always in a playful, loving way. Guilt speared her heart at the thought of little Henry and when she had told him her trip out of the house would be quick. Beatrice was now on her second night over on Wirt’s side. Hardly short considering her promise. She hoped Henry didn’t blame himself for her disappearance, since he had been her accomplice in escaping. And for his sake, she hoped her family didn’t blame him either.

“Beatrice?”

Surprised by the sudden voice breaking through the silence of night, Beatrice twisted in her chair just in time to see Sara entering the room. “What are you doing up?”

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Sara replied and came to sit down on the bed Beatrice should have been sleeping in.

“I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of home and everything I’ll have to face when I get there,” she admitted.

“My dad’s making a bunch of noise in his room. He started yelling at someone on the phone … at least I think it was on the phone. Anyway, it woke me up and once I’m awake it’s hard for me to get back to sleep. Thought I’d come and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine,” Beatrice replied, but let out a heavy sigh revealing she wasn’t exactly being honest. “I mean, I know I need to go back to make up with my mother, but part of me wonders if it’s even worth it.”

“Well, I don’t know your mother personally, so I can’t speak for her, but I’m sure she misses you,” Sara reassured Beatrice. “From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t sound like a horrible person. Just someone who was probably led to think the wrong thing, because of the wrong influence.” Beatrice glowered in the dark, remembering the day in the parlor with her aunt and cousin. How could her mother have given into their poor opinions? Couldn’t she see through to their shallow nature? “Besides, at least you have a mom to go back to,” Sara continued after a short pause, and the scowl Beatrice wore softened.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Do you miss her? Your mother?”

Sara shrugged. “It’s hard to miss someone you can’t really remember,” she mused. “It’s more of a sadness for what I see others having that I don’t. But also a sadness for my dad. A lot of the time I wonder what he would be like if she were still alive. Would he be so buried in his work, trying to always forget? I’m convinced that’s why he’s such a workaholic. It helps him not think about her. Even twelve years later.”

Beatrice thought of her parents. Would they miss her for that long too if she never went back? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn this into such a dreary conversation,” she apologized with a grimace, after noticing Sara’s slouched shoulders and frown.

Sara straightened up and smiled in her direction. “If you want we could talk about you eating dirt and worms instead.” 

Beatrice stuck out her tongue in disgust. “No, thank you,” she declined, using a tone of revulsion that made her friend chuckle. “By the way. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Sara’s mention of Beatrice’s former bird form prompted her to say something that had been on the tip of her tongue since before she had gotten into bed.

“Yeah?’

“Why were you so easy to convince about …” Beatrice was at a loss for words and gestured with her hands while saying, “Everything,” hoping it would be enough for Sara.

“Everything, like you being a bluebird from over the wall in the cemetery?”

Beatrice nodded. Wirt had drilled it into her that Sara would think she was crazy if the actual truth was told instead of lies. He had been wrong, but only now was Beatrice finding her voice to ask why.

“Wirt didn’t tell you?” Sara asked, her expression curious.

“Actually, Wirt was the one who told me you wouldn’t believe.”

“Why the hell did he think we were all going to the cemetery on Halloween in the first place?” Sara asked, but Beatrice sensed it was a rhetorical question and kept quiet. “Well, there’s a legend ...  I guess, maybe it’s not really a legend exactly. More of an urban legend, you know, stories kids tell to scare each other. It’s based on something that happened about 30 or so years ago. There was a little girl that went missing around Halloween. Everyone thought she was murdered by her parents, but there wasn’t enough evidence to pin it on them. Eventually they were driven out of town by those accusations, but there's another story out there. I think it was the cemetery caretaker who said he saw a girl climb the wall and just disappear. No one took him seriously, but still, every Halloween, based on his account, people go back there to see if she reappears.”

Beatrice was captivated, so much so that when Sara stopped talking she asked, “And then what?” in anticipation.

“And then nothing.” Sara shook her head. “She never appears. At least not to me. But I don’t know. I’m kind of superstitious. You think a lot about life and death and ghosts when you have someone close to you die and you’re only four. It wasn’t so hard for me to believe that the wall is actually magic. Yeah, it’s possible that you could be lying to me about everything, but maybe you’re not. I choose to believe the second one. I don’t think Wirt would be with someone that's crazy.”

“Glad I pass your sanity test,” Beatrice said with a chuckle.

“Well, just don’t prove me wrong and do something insane like run outside naked. I don’t think my dad would let you stay here anymore if you did that." Sara laughed and then got to her feet. “I should go back to bed. Hope you get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Beatrice nodded and then Sara left the room. 

* * *

 

Although Beatrice had gone back to bed after Sara left, that didn’t mean she was able to ignore the story she had been told. As far as Beatrice knew, Wirt and Greg were the only ones to have traveled into her world using the garden wall as their passage. But Sara’s story indicated that there had possibly been another, years before. Was that the reason her mother had been so wary of the wall, giving Beatrice warnings about it ever since she was a child?

Even with her body exhausted and aching, Beatrice wanted to know. She wanted to go home and ask about this mystery girl and if she had actually been real or just a story created by some crazy cemetery caretaker. Something inside her told Beatrice that someone had to know something. Maybe even someone close to her. And as a result of her contemplative mind, Beatrice was only able to sleep for bits at a time. She would occasionally jerk awake, remember all her worries and struggle to fall back asleep. This lack of rest was written so clearly across her face, that when Sara came to wake her in the morning, she felt the need to comment on it.

“Thanks,” Beatrice replied sarcastically. "Good morning to you too."

Wirt wasn’t much better. After he came over for his day with her, his first words were, “Didn’t you get _any_ sleep last night?”

“Is it that obvious?” Beatrice groaned as Wirt came to join her on the couch from the same room they had played video games in.

“If it makes you feel any better, dreams kept waking me. I’m exhausted. To be honest, I could actually go back to sleep,” he responded, rubbing his hands over his face.

Beatrice grasped one of those hands and pulled it down, a smile playing on her lips. “Do you want to?”

“What?”

“Sleep,” she replied.

Wirt snickered. “You want to spend our limited time together, napping?”

“It might help if you laid down with me,” Beatrice admitted. “I would be able to feel at ease enough to fall asleep.”

It didn’t take Wirt much convincing considering his tired state, and with a yawn he stood, offered his hand, and then helped her walk to the guest bedroom. Once inside, they found a position on the bed, with him behind her, his arms wrapped around her torso and face against the back of her head. “Wait, wait, I’m drowning in your curls. Help!” he joked and moved her hair upward on the pillow, exposing the nape of her neck. Beatrice giggled, told him he was a nerd, but then shivered as a chill traveled down her spine due to the feel of his breath on her skin. Impulsively, she thought of asking him to kiss her there, but Wirt spoke before she could say anything. “Beatrice?”

“Mmm hmmm,” she breathed.

"There's something I want to ask you."

"What?"

“I-I want … I want …” he hesitated.

“Tell me what you want,” Beatrice encouraged.

She could hear Wirt swallow, before he took a deep breath and said, “I want to go back with you when you leave. I want to convince your family that you don’t need finishing school.”

Beatrice mentally groaned. Did he really want to do this right now? “Please, don’t ask me that, Wirt.”

“Why not?”

“Because … I’m not worth it.” There was no lie in her words. It was how she truly felt.

“What?” Wirt asked, his breath touching the back of her neck again. “What are you talking about?” He sounded incredulous, but she ignored his tone.

“I have very few redeeming qualities. I’m … I’m a mess. Maybe this whole finishing school is something I actually need. You should get out while you can.” Now she _was_ lying. Under no circumstances did Beatrice think that finishing school could teach her anything she actually needed. But she had to find a way to convince Wirt to live in the moment and let her go when the time came.

Wirt didn’t reply right away, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking. Would he let her go so easily without a fight? After a few seconds passed, she felt his arms tighten around her torso and then in a move she didn’t anticipate, he let go to position himself above her. His arms were on either side of her head and he used them to hover. Wirt’s legs were positioned similarly with her lower half between them, making it so he was essentially kneeling above her. In any other situation it might have made Beatrice blush. But even Wirt- the physical embodiment of the term embarrassment- didn’t seem to notice the suggestive placement he'd put himself in. He just looked upset and his voice resonated annoyance when he said, “God Beatrice, don't lie to me. You’re so bad at it.”

She hadn’t been prepared for his sudden mood change and as a result fed off his negativity. “Hey, I’m not bad at lying. Didn’t I convinced you to follow me, so I could trade you to a witch?!” It didn’t take long for her to realize boasting about that wasn’t something to be proud of and she backtracked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up.”

Wirt sighed and shook his head. When he spoke again, all traces of irritation were gone. “I didn’t know you well enough back then to guess you were lying. I do now though and can tell that what you’re saying, you don’t believe. You’re trying to push me away. Why?”

Beatrice didn’t have any idea how to make her lie into something Wirt would accept. He saw through her manipulation of him and decided to give him a snippet of truth. “You’re not ready to go back there.”

Wirt scoffed. “Ready for what? Your family? I can handle them. Look Beatrice, I want to be your boyfriend for more than just the next couple of days. I want to go back with you and let your family know just how great you are. You don’t need to change anything. They have to see that you’re clever, kind, self-sufficient and … beautiful, all on your own.”

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m not any of those things,” Beatrice muttered, and then glanced away from Wirt.

“Why are you so down on yourself?”

Beatrice detected frustration in his voice, but could tell he was trying his hardest to keep that emotion from bleeding through. Wirt didn’t want her to know she was getting under his skin and it made her admit to herself that he really was her better half. He knew showing anger would only aggravate hers. Still, Beatrice wouldn’t look at him and only mumbled, “I don’t know,” with a shrug. She felt like all her insecurities had surfaced at the same time, with each telling her she wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth the trouble he would have to go through to be with her.

“Beatrice, didn’t you listen to those unsent tapes at all?” Wirt asked, but her eyes were on one of the landscape paintings hanging on the wall. She examined the colors, trying to ignore the way Wirt spoke, like he could see right through her. “I went crazy when I thought you didn’t want to exchange them anymore.” He paused waiting for a response that she refused to give him. “Beatrice? Beatrice, will you at least look at me?”

“No,” she answered, not wanting to turn her head and see his expression, knowing it would probably break her will.

Wirt let out a frustrated groan and she expected him to leave the room. She would have if the tables were turned. But Wirt wasn’t her. He seemed to be a little more level headed and instead, surprised Beatrice by bringing his face down to rest his forehead against her temple. “I’m not moving my head until you turn to look at me.”

“Well, you’re going to be very uncomfortable then.” Beatrice exhaled loudly to cover up the giggle that wanted to break free. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Oh, I can do this all day,” Wirt teased. “I don’t care. I’m going to make you look at me.”

Beatrice let out a low growl, but despite herself, finally let the laugh trapped in her throat escape. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

Wirt chuckled at her half-hearted insult and then pressed his mouth against her cheek. The feel of his lips, shocked her into doing exactly what he wanted and she turned her head to look at him, an act that unintentionally brushed her lips across his. They shared a fleeting look, silently communicating what the other wanted and that was all it took. Wirt lowered himself beside her for a more comfortable position and they began kissing. He wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her closer and she placed one of her legs over his.

Beatrice’s cold resolve began to melt away under the warmth of his kisses and by the time they pulled apart, she didn’t think there was any strength in her left to tell him not to come back with her.

“I … I wish you could see what I see,” Wirt said, his breathing slightly labored as he came down from the high of their moment together. He reached out to push some strands of hair away from Beatrice’s face and she smiled. “I never knew you were so insecure. You always seem so sure of yourself.”

Beatrice’s grin faltered. “Well, it’s hard to think that you're so great when the things you like most about yourself are also the things that others think need to be changed.”

“Then let me go back with you and convince everyone else what I already know. No one should try to change you.”

Beatrice decided to be completely honest. It was very clear to her now that there wasn’t any other way to be with him. “Wirt, I don’t want you to go back with me, because I know what happened to you over there. I know what almost happened to Greg.” Wirt shook his head and opened his mouth, but Beatrice reached out a finger to place against his lips, indicating she wanted to finish. “I’m not just saying this to push you away. I don’t think you’re mentally prepared to face that again and I don’t think I’m worth the risk.”

Wirt frowned. “When are you going to stop questioning my ability to do things? I’m not this wimp without a spine. You talk about what almost happened to Greg, but are you even remembering the reason he wasn’t turned into an eldelwood? Because I had the courage to stop it.”

“I know,” she whispered, reaching out to brush her hand over the side of his face and then letting it rest on his shoulder. “I just … it’s not that I don’t think you can. In all likelihood you’ll probably be fine. But it’s that slim chance that you might not be that makes me want to tell you no. I don’t want to see you in that pain again. Not when I can go do what needs to be done on my own and leave you here where you belong.”

Wirt swallowed hard and when he spoke there was trepidation in his voice. “I belong with you.”

Beatrice’s heart pounded against her ribcage, but she ignored the way his words made her feel and forced out, “Wirt, you’re only sixteen. Don’t you think it’s a little early for such strong declarations of who you belong with?”

“You told me that where you’re from girls your age are getting married.”

“Oh, you want to marry me?” Beatrice raised her eyebrows mischievously.

“You know what I mean.” He gave her an unamused look and she laughed.

“Fine.” With one word their fight was over. “You can come back with me.”


	18. Chapter 18

When Wirt began packing for his trip over the garden wall with Beatrice, he treated it like the short excursion it was supposed to be. If everything went as planned- he desperately hoped it would go as planned- then he'd be back with his family before too much time passed.

But what if it _didn’t_ go as planned?

It wasn’t an outcome Wirt liked to think about, because whenever he did his chest would tighten, followed by an accelerated heart rate. But before it could propel him towards a full blown panic attack, he'd force himself to focus on something else. Denial worked for a little while, but eventually his subconscious took over, kicking Wirt into survival mode without him noticing. He’d been unprepared his first time over on Beatrice’s side. Back then his only intention had been to get away from embarrassment, not knowing the wall would transport him and Greg to another world entirely. After a while he'd adapted to the harsh realities over there, but his brain wasn’t going to let him have it so hard the second time around.

His subconscious went into overdrive and on the morning before he was supposed to leave, Wirt mumbled, “What is all this stuff?” as his eyes took in the overflowing backpack in front of him. He had been trying to shove in an electric razor stolen from his stepdad, but was unsuccessful due to the multitude of things already stuffed inside. “Wait. I don’t even shave,” Wirt said, as if recognizing for the first time what the razor really was. After setting it aside, he pulled out a few other items that would have done him absolutely nothing on his trip. “I must be losing it. I don’t need any of these things.”

Four days had passed since Beatrice agreed to let him go home with her and every free moment he hadn’t been with her, Wirt had been planning. Now as he stared at all the junk on his floor, he wondered how things like pot holders had found their way into his backpack.

_If I can’t even do a simple thing like packing, how am I going to face her parents or anything else that might happen?_

Wirt gulped and looked at his clock. He shouldn’t have even been awake. It was too early, but he’d been unable to sleep. There was just too much to worry about. And then in an instant the panic he'd been internalizing broke through. He reeled as his mind showed him images of everything that could go wrong, from the slight- Beatrice's parents rejecting his plea-  to the severe- him being stuck on her side forever like the little girl who'd disappeared over the wall years before him. Wirt quickly reminded himself that the legend about the girl was all hearsay, but at the same time found it hard to believe that someone would make up a story similar to his experience. It was too much of a coincidence to not be true.

When Wirt’s door opened a few seconds later, he couldn’t even be upset that his brother was once again doing what he had asked him not to. The distraction was welcome. “Hey, Greg. Where’s the real Jason Funderberker?” he asked as his brother ambled into the room, pulling a stuffed frog behind him instead of the pet he usually carted around.

“He’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him,” Gregory replied, closing the door behind him.

“Kind of like how you should be?” Wirt raised an eyebrow as his brother came to sit down on the floor next to him.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I’m worried that you won’t be able to make it without me.”

Greg obviously meant Wirt wouldn’t be able to make it while on his trip with Beatrice, but the way he phrased it tugged at Wirt’s anxiety. It sounded like he thought Wirt wouldn’t be able to make it at all, leaving them forever separated. “I’ll be fine, Greg. Beatrice is going with me and you gave me that magic toy dinosaur. Nothing can hurt us with that kind of power in my pocket.”

Greg looked like was contemplating this and then nodded. “That’s right. Just remember he can only be used once, so don’t waste his power on something small.”

Wirt wasn’t exactly sure what that power was, but agreed. “Sure. I’ll remember” The room was quiet for a second, before Greg said his brother's name. "Yeah?" Wirt responded.

“Why can’t I come with? You always said that we couldn’t go back. Now we can. We can go back with Beatrice together.” It was something Gregory had asked over and over since Wirt decided to fill him in on what was happening, and it was something Wirt had repeatedly answered no to. This time he just gave his little brother a knowing look and Greg backed down. “I know. I know. You’re not going back for fun. You’re trying to help Beatrice.”

“Hey, don’t think about it too much,” Wirt said, nudging his brother's shoulder to help push away his sadness, but Greg’s expression didn’t change much. Wirt hated that look and tried to come up with a better idea. “You know Beatrice and I are going to the movies tonight, right? Well, what if you came with? Would that make you feel better?”

Greg’s frown disappeared. “What? Really? I thought it was just an older kid dating thing.”

Wirt shrugged. He was right. It was supposed to be his and Beatrice’s first date. He’d wanted to take her out once she was able to do things on her own again, to at least have that experience of them being together as a couple, since neither knew how things would turn out when she went back home. But Wirt didn’t think Beatrice would mind his brother tagging along. “Eh, we can make it an older kid, younger kid thing. No big deal,” he told Greg.

“Oh! Can we see _Radioactive Frogs 2: This time it’s personal?_ ” Greg asked, imitating the announcer from all the commercials for the B movie he was asking to see.

Wirt grimaced. “I don’t know if Beatrice wants to see …” he paused, realizing it wasn't Beatrice he was speaking for, but himself. “Actually, knowing everything I do about her, she’d probably like that. Lots of frog on frog violence.”

“Hooray!” Greg yelled, lifting his toy frog in the air and then shoving it in Wirt’s face, who gently pushed the stuffed animal aside.

“Okay, but the deal is that in order for you to come along, you have to promise to get enough sleep. And that means going back to bed.”

Greg didn’t seem to like this one caveat, but begrudgingly left the room. Wirt sighed as he watched his brother close the door behind him. At least with Greg now going, it would be that much easier to ask to borrow his stepdad’s car.

* * *

 

Of course, things didn’t always work out the way Wirt hoped. They hardly ever did, and when he drove up to Sara’s house that night in his mom’s minivan, Sara snorted as she opened the sliding door on the side. “Oh, my god, Wirt. You never told me you were a soccer mom!”

“Shut up” he mumbled from the front seat, his cheeks burning bright.

“Hi, Sara!” Greg said enthusiastically, waving wildly at her from his booster seat.

“Hey, kiddo!” Sara gave him a high five. “I got something for you.” She reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a handful of _Hershey_ kisses.

Greg instantly started devouring them, causing Wirt to say, “Hey, take the wrappers off first. I don’t want to have to turn this trip to the movies into a trip to the ER.” His brother didn’t respond and sighing, Wirt looked at Sara instead. “Where’s Beatrice?”

“She sent me out here to tell you to give her a minute,” Sara replied with a chuckle. “I think I embarrassed her.”

“Embarrassed her? How?”

Before she could respond, the front door to her house opened and Beatrice stepped out. Her head was down, but it was obvious to Wirt what Sara had meant. She had introduced Beatrice to makeup, and for some reason the makeover had embarrassed his girlfriend. Wirt wanted to ease her discomfort, but the glare Beatrice sent him as she stepped into the passenger seat- as if he were to blame for the makeup- stopped the compliment dead in his throat. “Don’t say anything,” she warned in a low voice.

Wirt put up his hands, imitating a surrender, but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped his mouth. Beatrice reacted by using her healed hand to punch his shoulder. “Nice to see your fist working again,” he groaned.

“Have fun and make sure to have her back by midnight or I’ll come after you with a shotgun or whatever it is overprotective dads say to their daughter’s dates,” Sara teased Wirt and then sent Beatrice a wink. She just glowered back causing the other to laugh as she slid the door shut and waved goodbye.

“Wow, Beatrice, you look pretty,” Greg suddenly chimed in, saying exactly what Wirt had wanted to, but wasn’t allowed.

Instead of giving him the death stare she had shared with both Wirt and Sara, Beatrice smiled at Greg and thanked him. “Why does he get to tell you that, but I get a warning and bodily harm," Wirt complained.

“Because I’m not dating him,” Beatrice replied.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense,” Wirt countered. “I can’t tell my girlfriend she looks good? In what reality is that normal?”

Beatrice crossed her arms across her chest and stared him down, but Wirt could see the ice behind her blue irises gradually beginning to melt. “I’m sorry. I feel like a doll all painted up with this stuff,” she finally admitted with a sigh.

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me how you look, just as long as I’m with you. But I promise, you don’t look like a doll. Just different. It’s a nice different,” he complimented, but then quickly added. “Please, don’t punch me for saying that.”

Beatrice gave him a remorseful look. “How about the exact opposite?” With a smile, she leaned her body across their seats to give him a kiss that was interrupted seconds later by a sound of disgust coming from behind them.

“Eww gross,” Greg protested. “That is not appropriate for my eyes.”

They pulled apart and laughed at the reaction from their audience of one. Then, as if seeing something he couldn’t, Beatrice reached up to move her thumb across his mouth. “Oops, guess this red stuff comes off my lips. I’ll have to be more careful.”

Wirt smirked and helped along the process by wiping the back of his hand across his lips. “Ready to go?” he asked and Greg responded with a yell of happiness.

“ _Radioactive Frogs 2_ here we come!” his brother shouted.

“This time it’s personal!” Beatrice said, finishing the tagline for him. Wirt arched his eyebrows at her questioningly. “What?” she asked, defensively. “I have to spend my time while you and Sara are at school doing something. Sometimes I watch TV.”

Wirt chuckled and backed out of Sara’s driveway, glad that for at least tonight he could forget about everything that was in store for the next day and just focus on the two people that mattered most to him.


	19. Chapter 19

At first Wirt suggested Beatrice be dropped off at the cemetery in the morning to meet him, but that plan had changed when she told him his house was a better starting point. Beatrice wanted one last goodbye with Greg … just in case. With everything so uncertain, it was important to her that they see each other before she left.

“I guess that would be fine, but you’ll probably have to meet my mom. She wakes up early every day. Weekends mean nothing to her,” Wirt had warned as they sat inside his mother’s vehicle stopped in Sara’s driveway. Their date was nearing an end. Greg slept soundlessly in the back, having put himself in a popcorn coma at the theater, which left Beatrice and Wirt softly talking in the front, trying to stretch out their date for as long as possible.

“I don’t mind. I suppose if you’re willing to face my parents in a far more complicated situation, then I can handle anything she throws at me.” Beatrice was quiet for a second and then timidly asked, “Who will you introduce me as?”  

“As Beatrice, what else?” Wirt seemed clueless to her insinuation.

“That’s all?”

“Do you want me to tell her your last name too?” Wirt snorted, but then a slow realization began to dawn across his face. “Oh, you mean as someone I’m dating? Is that important to you?”

Beatrice hated to admit it, but the little label of them belonging together, the term people used on Wirt’s side for courtship, meant a lot to her. “Yes,” she muttered under her breath, displaying the same reaction Wirt usually did when he became uncomfortable. He seemed to be the only person who could pull a blush out of her. Thankfully the inside of the van was dark and she didn’t think he noticed.

“Okay, if it’s important to you, tomorrow when you get to my house, you’ll be my Beatrice … or uh, no, I don’t own you. That’s not what I … you know … uh, heh, I’ll just say you're my girlfriend. Or Beatrice, the girl I’m dating. Yeah, that’s better.”

Beatrice had to stifle her laugh to keep from waking Greg. She found it amazing that after everything they had been through, after everything they had confessed to each other, that she still flustered him. “You’re such a nerd … _my_ nerd,” she playfully made light of Wirt’s stumble and then kissed him.

Their mouths moved slowly together, making the moment last longer than Greg had allowed earlier. Although, the distance of their bodies as she leaned over the space between the seats, began to annoy Beatrice. She wanted to be closer. With her lips still pressed against Wirt’s, she glided herself into his lap, an action he registered by placing his arms around her waist. Likewise her arms closed around his neck and their kisses grew more passionate, sloppy even. They were both breathing too hard, lost in the moment, and when their reckless behavior resulted in Beatrice accidentally hitting something that made a loud noise, the shock forced them apart. They stared at each other in stunned silence and when Wirt began laughing, she asked, “What was that?”

“The horn. It’s what you use to get someone’s attention when you’re driving,” he explained.

“Well, it got _my_ attention.”

“Guess, we needed that warning anyway, before we took things too far,” he said, as Beatrice moved back to her seat, embarrassed by her mistake. Then glancing behind him, Wirt sighed, “At least we didn’t wake Greg.”

“Yeah, if he thought that first kiss was too much for him, I can’t imagine what he would have said this time.” Beatrice blanched at the idea.

“We’re terrible parents,” Wirt joked and Beatrice responded with a soft laugh, nodding in ashamed agreement.

A quietness settled over them then and Beatrice took a moment to study Wirt’s face in the limited light, her eyes lingering on his. Tomorrow everything would be different. Tomorrow they would stand on the precipice of change and fall down from it together, not knowing where they would land. Beatrice mentally noted that she was being abnormally poetic about the whole thing and thought maybe being around Wirt was starting to affect her. “Thanks for taking me to the theater,” she finally said, pulling herself from her mind and opening the door to her right.

“Sure. Let’s do this again sometime.” He sent her a crooked grin and she returned his with one of her own. Then Wirt slid out his side of the vehicle to walk with Beatrice up to Sara’s house. Hand in hand they stepped into the brightness of the light above the front door, but when Beatrice turned to say goodbye, she instead gasped and then giggled.

“What?” he asked innocently, glancing around to see if there was something behind him.

“You have … your face, it has my lipstick all over it.”

Wirt frowned and she helped him wipe the red from his skin, vowing never again to do such a stupid thing as paint her lips.

* * *

 

Although Beatrice never anticipated that Sara and her would become close, she had to admit that there was a sense of sadness inside her as they drove to Wirt’s the next morning. She would miss Sara and hoped they would get the opportunity to see each other again. But stepping from her new friend’s car to stand in Wirt’s driveway, Beatrice couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that this might be their last time together. “Thanks for letting me stay at your home and you know … stuff …” She still wasn’t well versed in the whole being kind thing and as a result fumbled her thank you.

Sara got out of the car and surprised Beatrice by embracing her. “No problem. I’m glad I got to meet you and that you turned out to be much cooler than just Wirt’s imaginary Amish girlfriend. When you come back, you have to stay with me again.” Beatrice nodded as Sara let go of her, but was unable to keep the pessimistic _if I come back_ , from entering her brain. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Sara suddenly said and turned around to reach into her car. Pulling something out, she handed it to Beatrice, who cupped the little rectangle case that was about the size of one of Wirt’s cassette tapes.

“What is it?”

Sara smiled knowingly. “It’s _Blondie,_ or a tape of their music. It used to be my mom’s. This is what I listened to when I was a kid that made me like them and since you have a cassette player where you're from, I thought you might want to have this.”

Beatrice shook her head. “But it was your mother’s.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had it for a long time and don’t really use it anymore. I don’t even have a cassette player. But you do, so …”

Beatrice shoved the tape into her coat pocket. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure to listen, then when you come back we can talk about which songs you like best,” Sara told her and Beatrice agreed.

They waved goodbye to each other, before Sara backed out into the road and Beatrice turned in the direction of Wirt’s door. He opened it before she could even knock. His expression was anxious, but Wirt smiled through it and Beatrice decided not to mention what she had seen. With him, it was sometimes best not to let on that she knew he was feeling panicky. It usually made the situation worse. “Is your mother awake?” she asked, stepping inside, remembering their conversation from the day before.

“Is that Beatrice?” A voice called from somewhere deep in the house and it rang familiar. Beatrice had heard it several times during her short stay at Wirt’s.

“Does that answer your question?” Wirt groaned, closing the door.

“You already told her about me?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Greg was drawing a picture for you this morning and when she asked who the girl and boy holding hands were ... it just snowballed from there. She knows you went to the movies with us last night too.” Wirt let out a frustrated noise and Beatrice reached out to grasp his hand.

“It’s okay, Wirt. If that’s all Greg told her then we’ll be fine.”

“There’s more,” he said, pulling out his shirt collar to expose the side of his neck.

“Oh no. I didn’t- did I give you that?” Beatrice’s hands flew up to her mouth in mortification. How could she have gone from never having kissed anyone before to leaving a bruise on Wirt’s neck in such a short amount of time? An echo of her mother’s disapproving tongue clucking played in Beatrice’s head as if she were chastising her daughter from beyond the wall. Thinking of her mother reminded Beatrice of another and lowering her hands she asked, “Your mother hasn’t seen it, has she?”

“No, not yet, but I know she will soon and that is not a conversation I want to have with her. You have no idea.” Wirt shuddered.

“Well, then just do this,” Beatrice reached out and pulled up his shirt collar. “Honestly Wirt, if you can’t handle dealing with a love bite, how are you going to go home with me and …” Beatrice stopped talking, her eyes catching sight of a woman heading towards them. Quickly, she transitioned her sentence into something less revealing, “and, uh there you are, this is how all the cool kids are wearing their shirts.” She tried to imitate something Sara might say and then let go of Wirt’s collar.

“Hello, Beatrice. It’s so nice to meet you. I wouldn’t have known you were coming over this morning if it wasn’t for Greg. Apparently Wirt has been keeping secrets from me.” Wirt’s mother, short and thin like him, with wavy brown hair that touched her shoulders, reached out and shook Beatrice’s hand. “I suppose it’s a little late for breakfast, but I can whip up something quick for brunch. Will you stay for a bit before you leave with Wirt?”

“Ummm ...” Beatrice looked to her boyfriend for help.

This time he didn’t choke like he had at Sara’s, but maybe that was because unlike before, there was no pizza around to stuff in his mouth. Either way, she was glad he came to her rescue. “Sorry, mom. We have to meet up with friends. Maybe some other time.”

Beatrice nodded in agreement with Wirt, but as she watched his mother’s face fall in disappointment, the portion of her personality she had been working on- being kind and empathetic- kicked in. She knew it wouldn’t make Wirt happy, but despite that, Beatrice offered to stay for brunch.

“What are you doing?” he groaned under his breath moments later as they walked a few paces behind his mother.

“She looked so sad,” Beatrice replied. “I felt bad and it just came out of my mouth.”

Wirt exhaled as he took her hand in his. “Well, you’ve made my life more difficult, but it’s nice that you thought of her. What’d you know? You have a soul after all,” he teased and Beatrice pushed her shoulder up against his, causing him to stumble. Wirt laughed it off, but after straightening himself up, added, “Uh, no really. That was nice of you.”

Beatrice shrugged, the compliment making her feel uncharacteristically bashful and she decided to change the subject. “Well, there is another reason I delayed us leaving. You have yet to introduce me to your family properly. I am the girl you’re dating after all.”

Wirt glanced at her sideways. “I have no problem letting everyone know how I feel about you, but let’s do this as fast as possible. Trying to get through another fake story about how we met is going to be draining. There are so many ways to mess this up. I wish I could just tell the truth.”

“Maybe one day things will work out that way,” Beatrice sighed, “But until then, I need to know what the story is this time.”

“Well, uh, I met you on the internet,” Wirt replied sheepishly.

“That thing with all the cat videos?” Beatrice couldn’t fathom how you could meet someone through such a small device.

Wirt nodded. “Just let me do all the talking, okay? I promise it’ll make things easier.”

Beatrice opened her mouth to reply, but was cut short when a small body crashed into her, wrapping its arms around her torso. “Whoa! Hey there, Greg,” she said, looking down.

Wirt’s brother stared up at her, his eyes wide with excitement and a large grin pulling at his mouth. “This is so great. You’re staying for breakfast or I think it’s brunch, but it doesn’t matter. We’re gonna eat food together, hooray, and I can show you the picture I drew. Even better, you don’t have to hide in Wirt’s room anymore.”

“Greg!” Writ spoke his brother’s name as a stern warning, but the younger of the two just kept talking, unfazed.

“Maybe mom will even make some cookies. I told you about her cookies. Wirt once made a Beatrice cookie. Remember that, Wirt?” Greg gleefully said, tugging on Beatrice’s hand, leading her further into the house with Wirt trailing behind.

Beatrice glanced back at her boyfriend questioningly. “You made a Beatrice cookie?”

Wirt replied with a loud groan followed by him racing past her to catch Gregory and cover his mouth.


	20. Chapter 20

According to Wirt’s mom, a quick brunch meant putting together a complicated quiche from scratch, something that would take nearly an hour to make. Hardly quick at all. Wirt knew it was just her way of dragging out Beatrice’s time there, but he tried not to be resentful of her obvious ploy. The sympathy he’d seen Beatrice show by agreeing to stay had influenced him, and Wirt reminded himself that once they left, there was no certainty that either of them would return. The thought that he might never come home again, pushed him into letting their time with his family progress naturally without any interruptions of how they had to get going. As long as Beatrice wanted to stay then Wirt wouldn’t protest.

They’d managed to escape Greg and his relentless embarrassing stories that always connected back to Wirt, when Beatrice offered to help his mom bake. She told Greg that making a quiche wasn’t for little kids and that he should instead go finish his picture that Wirt had told her about. “It’s of you and Wirt and me, but I’m the robot king and you guys are just normal boring humans,” Greg said.

“Sounds like a work of art that deserves to be framed in my room,” Beatrice replied and the seven year old beamed proudly before leaving the kitchen, in search of his crayons. Wirt mouthed a thank you, assuming her roundabout way of getting Greg to leave was for his sake and she whispered back, “You owe me a Beatrice cookie now.” Wirt scowled and she laughed.

With Beatrice aiding his mom in the kitchen, Wirt was relegated to standing off to the side, keeping an eye on the situation, ready to insert himself into the conversation if it required any lies. But for the most part, Beatrice did alright and Wirt didn’t need to intercede much. “Do you cook at home?” his mom had asked her at one point.

“Not a whole lot, but I know the basics. My mother is always trying to domesticate me and forces lessons whenever she remembers,” Beatrice had replied, cracking the shell of an egg and letting the insides fall into a bowl. “Last thing I made with her was a cake for my brother Henry. It was his eighth birthday.”

Wirt thought he saw somethings pass over Beatrice’s face that resembled sadness and he came in to answer the question he anticipated his mom asking next. “Beatrice comes from a large family and her mom homeschools them all,” Wirt said, also answering the inevitable _what school do you go to_ question.

“Oh, I suppose it’s nice then that you have the internet to help you meet others your age,” his mom said to Beatrice, but looked at Wirt instead and winked. He responded with a roll of the eyes for her benefit.

After that, Wirt joined the brunch making process, helping, but mostly hindering them as they finished up the quiche. “You have some flour on your nose,” Beatrice teased once they were done and she swiped her palm down the center of his face to remove it. Caught up in the moment, Wirt grasped her hand, before she could drop it, and tried to pull Beatrice in for a kiss.

“Wirt!” she warned in a low, forceful tone and pulled back before his lips could reach hers. Then she glanced over her shoulder and back again to indicate his mom who was pushing the quiche into the oven.

“Oh, yeah,” Wirt replied sheepishly, releasing her hand and nervously rubbing the back of his neck, an act that inadvertently pushed down his collar.

Beatrice sighed in exasperation. “Really, Wirt, I can’t take you anywhere,” she lovingly complained, while pulling the top of his shirt back up again to cover the hickey she’d given him.

Wirt’s mom filled in the time while the quiche was baking by going through old photo albums with Beatrice, and much to Wirt’s dismay, showing off all his awkward phases growing up. Actually his whole life was one big awkward phase he’d yet to grow out of and Beatrice had teased him mercilessly while looking at the images from his childhood. Although, when they came to pictures from the most recent Halloween, she grew quiet and Wirt sensed that seeing his and Greg’s costumes must have brought back memories she didn’t want to experience. It was also possible they made Beatrice to think of where they'd be off to once their time with his family ended. Either way, it produced a reaction in her he didn’t like and at that point Wirt took the album and shoved it back in its spot with all the others. “That’s enough, mom. Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed me enough?”

“Never,” she teased in reply and Wirt was glad when he heard happiness return to Beatrice in the form of a laugh.

When the quiche was finished baking, everyone- a group that also included his stepdad- sat down and ate brunch with Wirt’s new girlfriend, which by that point he had introduced her as. Thankfully, the conversation wasn’t hindered by Greg spilling any secrets about who their red-headed brunch guest really was or what would be happening after Wirt left with her that afternoon. He attributed this to Beatrice, who interrupted Greg anytime he began speaking by asking him inane questions. These prompts seemed to always require Gregory several minutes to express all his jumbled thoughts on the subject. Wirt was impressed with her ability to handle his brother, and also amused. Especially when she asked Greg about some cartoon she’d been watching at Sara’s and they began arguing about whether one character was actually a villain or not.

By the time the last plate was cleared from the table and Greg delivered his finished drawing to Beatrice- while also reminding his brother of the power of his toy dinosaur- Wirt was glad they had stayed. Before, he’d always dreaded being in situations where his parents came anywhere near his friends. Somehow though, introducing Beatrice to them had turned out better than he could have imagined and when Wirt left with her, his thoughts were on being able to return to do it all over again. He loved that he’d been able to share her with his family and not have the experience be completely humiliating.

But he wasn’t sure how Beatrice felt. She seemed fine during their time inside the house, but after they walked out the door and Wirt retrieved the backpack he’d stashed away in his mom’s van, she seemed to quiet down. He tried to talk with her, but Beatrice was tight lipped and Wirt eventually stopped making an effort. He figured her demeanor was the result of nerves about what they were about to do and was fine trudging through the snow together in silence. At least she let him hold her hand.

After reaching the cemetery gates though, Wirt couldn’t keep quiet anymore and asked, “Do you want to go over anything before we, uh ... you know?” Beatrice responded by shaking her head, and then walked ahead of him towards the wall, forcing Wirt to increase his pace to catch up. “What’s wrong?” he said after reaching her, remembering the last time she’d acted this way it had been from jealousy over Sara. But there wasn’t anyone to be jealous of now. She knew how he felt about her.

Beatrice leaned back against the wall and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. When she finally spoke seconds later, it wasn’t the _nothing, I’m fine_ reply like he had hoped for. Because of his own experiences dealing with panic attacks, Wirt recognized what was happening with Beatrice as soon as the first words came tumbling from her mouth. She was losing herself to anxiety. “Wirt, what happens if nothing we do works and I still get sent away? What if my family throws you out or-or you can’t get back home and you’re stuck on my side like that girl Sara told me about? What if I never get to see you or Greg or Sara or your family or play zombie video games with you or eat pizza-”

“Beatrice!” Wirt had to say her name loudly, after his first few gentle attempts failed at gaining her attention.

Her face had been down as she rattled off all her fears in rapid succession, but now that she looked up, he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Wirt wasn’t used to seeing Beatrice so fragile, or on the edge of total panic meltdown. That was more his calling card and for a moment, he struggled to find a way to fix the brokenness he saw in her. But his short pause only prompted Beatrice to continue down her spiral of desperation.

“Wirt, I have to- I have to read you my poem. Where is it? Where did I put it?” she asked, her voice frantic. He knew it was in her coat pocket, having seen her put it there right after he’d given it back. But in her state of frenzy, Beatrice couldn’t remember. As it was, her hands were inside her pockets and she still didn't know. Beatrice had completely lost it. “Wirt, what if I never get the chance to read it? I have to read it to you before we climb over the wall. Where is it? I need to tell you … to tell-”

“Beatrice, stop freaking out!” Her panic was beginning to leach onto him and as a result Wirt yelled out in frustration. He thought his outburst might produce a similar reaction in her, but she was already too far gone in her panic to find that fire she usually displayed. Instead, Beatrice responded by looking crushed, and seeing how he’d hurt her, Wirt’s heart to plummeted. She was already dealing with so much and he hated that he'd added one more thing for her to be upset about.

Closing his eyes, Wirt pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to pull himself together. He had signed up for the long haul with her and was going to keep Beatrice from going to finishing school one way or another, but presently he had to calm her down. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m trying to keep it together, but I lost it for a second and I-I shouldn’t have treated you that way.” The frown on Beatrice’s face softened, but didn’t disappear completely like he hoped.

Wirt sighed, looking past her shoulder and at the wall she leaned on. He was going to have to face the barrier between their worlds and so was she, but to do that they needed to be in sync. And at that moment Wirt was going to have to force himself to be the stronger person, so he could help her through it.

When he finally turned back to look at her face again, his hands reached up, cupped Beatrice’s cheeks, and using his thumbs, Wirt wiped away the few remaining tears still lingering on her freckled skin. “You’re not going to read me your poem,” he told her, struggling to find a reassuring voice, while fighting against his own anxiety. “That’s something I don’t want you to do until you’re ready. We’re not going to give each other any last minute heartfelt goodbyes o-or think we have to do this one last thing, because life is ending. We’re going to get you home and fight for _us_. I … I don’t care how hard it is. I’m not leaving you until I know everything is fixed. Trust me. Our plan … our plan _will_ work.”

Wirt actually had no idea if their plan would work. Not that it was much of a plan anyway. There was no well thought out strategy to enact, just a plea from him to let her stay. Everything he had said to Beatrice was him trying to calm her down, but also to psyche himself up for the fight he would have to make. It wasn’t typically in his nature to take control of a situation and be the stronger person, but sometimes Wirt could manage to find that part of him if the person he was being strong for mattered enough. He’d managed to save Greg and he would try to do the same for Beatrice, because he was crazy about her.

Beatrice sniffed and pulled away from Wirt to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too,” she said softly, a slight waver in her voice. “I had such a good time with your family and now I have to go back home and fix this mess. I started thinking about all the things that could go wrong and all the things I could lose. You especially.”

Wirt closed the tiny gap between them by pulling Beatrice into a hug. “I know how it feels. I’ve been sick with anxiety for days, but it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t help. This is something that just has to be done, so let’s just do it.” He could feel her nodding against his shoulder and Wirt briefly kissed her mouth as they separated. “Are you ready to go now?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to bite down.

“Come on. I’ll give you a boost.” Wirt hunkered down and laced his fingers together for Beatrice to place her foot into.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to drop me. If I fall on you, I'll crush you,” she asked, skeptically.

Wirt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to add any negativity to a situation that had just resolved itself, and replied “Yes,” in a flat tone. Beatrice didn’t need any further convincing and placed her boot into his hands. He struggled a bit, but was able to lift her off the ground and onto the wall. “Are you okay?” he asked and Beatrice replied that she was.

Wirt was just about to join her when a vaguely familiar voice called out to him. Although, the person didn’t say Wirt, but instead used his alias Walt. Beatrice heard the voice too and it startled her enough that she fell down and landed on top of Wirt. Quickly she rolled off of him, apologized and then asked, “Why is he calling out Walt? Who’s Walt?”

“Um, that’s me or uh, what that guy thinks my name is,” Wirt replied, taking Beatrice’s hand and bringing her up into a standing position with him. “His name’s Marty. He’s harmless, but annoying. I was forced to deal with him when I came here every day waiting for your tapes. I think they pay him to keep the cemetery clean. At least, I hope that’s the case and he’s not just wandering around here for fun.”

“Hey, Walt, I haven’t seen ya here in a while. Thought maybe ya finally got sick of this place,” Marty said, approaching them, and then standing close enough that Wirt could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. Beatrice took a step back and to ease the anxiety he could see written in her body language, Wirt snaked his arm around her middle, and pulled his girlfriend closer.

“Yeah, I guess, I just got tired of coming here all the time,” Wirt chuckled nervously.

Marty nodded slowly and Wirt thought he looked upset, but the expression faded from his wrinkled face before he could really be sure. “Well, can’t say I didn’t miss ya. Gets lonely out here. But ya came back and brought a friend.” Beatrice nodded and an awkward silence stretched between the three, as Marty waited for an introduction that never came. “So, saw ya were climbing the wall,” he continued, and indicated Beatrice with his hand. “Might wanna keep away from that. Saw a girl disappear years ago doin’ the same thing. Ginger like you even. Climbed the wall and gone. Just like that.”

If Wirt hadn’t been aware of the urban legend of the girl who had disappeared over the wall 30 years before, he probably would have ignored Marty. It would have only been the delusion of a man who’d obviously lived a hard life filled with ingesting plenty of things that altered the way his brain worked. But knowing what he did, Wirt asked. “You saw that girl? The one everyone comes here on Halloween to see appear?”

“God damn, kids makin’ it a joke,” Marty replied, angrily. “I saw it. I know it. Shouldn’t play games like that. I hate cops, but on Halloween I call em to scatter those kids.” He spit on the ground and both Beatrice and Wirt jumped out of the way. “Sorry,” Marty said, after seeing their reaction. “Well, got work to do. These graves ain't cleanin' themselves. You two stay off that wall though. I’ll see ya around, Walt. Don't go digging up any bodies.”

“Yeah, okay, I won't do that,” Wirt replied as the drunken man stumbled away.


	21. Chapter 21

“Do you think it matters that he said the girl who disappeared was ginger? That means red haired, right?” Beatrice asked Wirt, sitting beside her. Their backs were against the cemetery wall as they watched the strange caretaker, waiting for him to leave before they made any attempt at climbing again. At that moment the inebriated man was still wandering among the graves in their line of sight.

“Yeah, it means hair like yours,” Wirt pulled one of Beatrice’s red curls away from the others and let it fall again, “but I don’t think it matters. Why, do you?”

Beatrice shrugged. “I’m not sure to be honest, but I’ve been uneasy about that story since Sara told me. Seems like something that would have been known on my side too. Why wasn’t I told about a girl wandering in from your world? My mother always said the wall was magic, but until I saw you and Greg come over, I never believed her. So … why did she tell me that, but never give me a reason why?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing really, I suppose. Just the fact that this mystery girl had red hair. I have red hair. Is she connected to me somehow? It seems like a stretch, I know.” Beatrice paused and then shook her head. “Never mind. I think I’m just being paranoid.” She exhaled loudly, mentally deriding herself for thinking too deeply into things that probably weren’t connected.

Picking up a handful of snow in his hand, Wirt threw it at one of the headstones, but missed. “Actually, I’m more concerned that it seems the story is true at all,” Wirt admitted. “I mean, I thought it was probably true, but now …”

“Does that make you not want to come back with me … you know ... now that it’s likely the story happened?” Beatrice asked, causing Wirt to arch an eyebrow, and give her a look like he thought she was crazy. The question was dumb, she knew that, but nevertheless couldn’t contain her strong need for reassurance. Small pieces of panic were still waiting inside her, left over from the meltdown he had pulled her from, and she wanted to calm them. “Please, just tell me, even if you think I’m being stupid and insecure.”

Wirt sighed. “Beatrice, I’m still going home with you. This changes nothing.”

“Thank you,” she said and leaned her head against his shoulder. Beatrice appreciated the effort he made for her, but also hated that she needed reassurance in the first place. “Ah, cheese and crackers, look what you’ve turned me into. I thought love was supposed to make you stronger, not turn you into a puddle of mush,” she grumbled as her boyfriend reached around to pull her in closer, but his hand stalled on her waist.

“Love?” Wirt said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Beatrice didn't reply right away, not understanding the significance of the word she'd used until it was already out of her mouth. Did she love him? Maybe. Probably. But she was only sixteen. Not even a week had passed since they admitted their feelings for each other and that was only after a friendship that had been enabled through hearing each other’s voices on tapes. It didn’t seem like enough to go on for her to be admitting love.

And yet … how she felt about Wirt resembled what she thought love should be like. How could she be sure? “Don’t read too much into that,” Beatrice finally said, deciding to brush off her trip up rather than deal with it.

“Okay,” Wirt responded and even if she couldn’t see his face, Beatrice could hear the smile in his voice. She wanted to groan loudly at the _Pandora’s Box_ her big mouth had opened. Beatrice wasn’t ready to deal with the word love. Not when there was so much else going on.

A few minutes of silence passed between them as they watched Marty move about the cemetery, before Wirt said her name.

“Yeah?” She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him and Wirt stared back, his brown eyes intent, but in an instant his expression softened, leaving Beatrice confused. “What is it?” she asked tentatively.

“Even if you’re not ready, well … what I want to say is that, I, uh, I’m okay with that word. The one you said.” By the way Wirt left his sentence hanging heavy in the air, it sounded like he wasn’t finished, but after waiting for him to continue and getting nothing, Beatrice realized it was her turn. She wasn’t sure what to say though and only sighed. Instead of reassuring Wirt by letting him know she thought she felt the same, the words stayed put in her heart.

“I thought we weren’t going to give each other any last minute goodbyes, because life was ending,” Beatrice repeated Wirt’s words from earlier, trying to distract him.

“This isn’t me giving you a last minute goodbye. It’s just me telling you something a-and you don’t have to say anything back. It’s okay. But I wanted to let you know that, I’m fine with that word,” he replied and then grew quiet again.

Beatrice looked for, but didn’t see the usual creep of a blush filling in his cheeks. His nose was red, but she attributed that to the cold. Surprisingly, Wirt seemed completely in control of his emotions, but even after seeing that, she still couldn’t say anything. Expressing her feelings had always been hard for Beatrice and that word … it wasn’t something she felt capable of saying. At least not yet.

She could though show him and Beatrice surprised Wirt by wrapping her arms around his waist and moving in for a kiss. When their lips met, she felt the outside cold instantly dissipate as his warmth covered her, but Wirt pulled away too soon. “Wait. We can’t do this out here. What if Marty sees? Do you really want his beady bloodshot eyes staring at us while we make out?”

Beatrice glanced back to where she had last seen Marty and noticed he was gone. “Weird cemetery man isn’t around anymore,” she grinned and moved in to press her mouth against his again.

“Beatrice, if he’s not watching then we should climb the wall, don’t you think?” Wirt moved his body away from hers and she whined playfully, pushing her hand against his chest in mild irritation. “Well, if I had a choice I’d rather be doing what we were doing, but,” he paused and motioned towards the wall, “It’s what we came here for. It’s what we’ve been waiting to do since your wrist and ankle healed.”

He was right. She knew it and with an exaggerated sigh Beatrice stood, offering her hand to him. Wirt took it and once he was at her height, Beatrice stunned him by pushing his body up against the wall with her own. Then she gave him a quick kiss. One that made up for its briefness with its intensity. “I had to get a last one in,” Beatrice said when Wirt sent her a questioning look after she'd moved her body away from his.

Her eyes caught sight of a crooked smile passing over his lips, before Wirt bent down to pick up the blanket they had been sitting on and placed it back into his backpack. “Always the instigator,” he quipped, reaching out to tug on a lock of her hair, but she batted his hand away. Then with a quick glance behind him, Wirt said, “Let’s go, before Marty decides to grace us with his presence again.” 

* * *

 

The climb over the wall was easier than she thought it would be. There was no tumbling down to the ground in order to be in her world again, which had been the case with Wirt’s side. Home had simply been there waiting once Beatrice reached the top. “Wirt, what do you see?” she asked anxiously, as they peered over together.

“The Unknown,” he replied.

“The Unknown?” she repeated, not sure what he meant.

“It’s what I called your world at first, because I had no name for it,” Wirt answered with chagrin.

“Not very creative,” she snorted, hoisting herself up to sit on the ledge and dangle her legs over the other side. Her side.

Wirt joined Beatrice and sat down beside her. “Well, I hope it won’t be unknown for much longer. If this works, then I’m assuming I’ll be spending more time over on your side with you.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything in response. Apprehension was twisting in her gut and keeping her silent. She hoped he was right, but mentioning that out loud felt almost like bad luck. Instead, Beatrice carefully maneuvered her body to begin the slow descent back home, with Wirt following her down. The bricks were just like she remembered, uneven and jagged, but Wirt had lent her some gloves, so this time she avoided any ripped fingernails.

When the ground was at last reached, Beatrice kicked her boots in the mud that greeted her feet. The pools of dirt were the result of an early thaw. Most of the snow was gone, unlike Wirt’s side, where winter was still in full force. But other than that, everything seemed the same and the wall was still the wall she had come to nearly every day in search of Wirt’s tapes.

She felt slightly unnerved at how easy coming back had been and turned to Wirt, who had finally joined her. “Why do you suppose it was so simple this time for me to cross over? Before, I had walked all along the wall, hoping to see where you lived, but it had taken a fall for me to actually be there.”

He was quiet for a minute, his expression thoughtful and then grasping Beatrice hand, Wirt replied, “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s rooted in emotion. I was trying to get away from the embarrassment of Sara finding my tape and showing it to Funderberker when I first wandered into your world. I was so upset that I climbed the wall and didn’t even notice that I wasn’t in the same place anymore. And when I came back, I was determined to get Greg home, because I cared about keeping him safe. So … maybe love? Your love for your family? Your love for Henry?”

“Your love for Sara?” _And my love for you,_ Beatrice mused.

“What? I didn’t love Sara,” Wirt contested.

“But you thought you did. Maybe that’s all it takes. You love strongly and it pushes the wall to give you what it thinks you want.” It was an idea that seemed plausible. The wall _had_ delivered Wirt’s tape and Greg’s drawing to her, resulting in the start of their relationship. Maybe it had been a friendly love between her and Wirt at first, but it was still love, and when she crossed over into his world, Beatrice didn’t realize her love had transformed into something stronger. That must have been the reason why it had taken a violent fall to push her past the barrier. She needed that shock to discover the truth. “That was some very impressive brain work,” Beatrice complimented. “I never would have come to the conclusion that it was love.”

“Thanks,” he replied, smiling.

“Well, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a nerd,” Beatrice couldn’t help but tease, and Wirt returned her insult with a morose expression. “Come on, my house isn’t too far a walk from here,” she said, ignoring the look he gave her and tugging on his hand for him to follow. Wirt fell into step with Beatrice and before long they were standing outside her house. But as they approached, she didn’t hear the usual hustle and bustle that was typical when you lived with five brothers and two sisters. “It’s so quiet,” Beatrice commented, but just as she finished speaking, the sound of a low bark came from somewhere behind them. “George?” she called, whirling about.

“George?” Wirt asked.

“My dog. Well, the family dog. I’ve told you about him before, Wirt,” Beatrice replied, glancing around anxiously.

“Maybe I blocked it out. I hate dogs,” he groaned.

Beatrice looked at him askance. “You don’t like dogs? What kind of monster are you?”

“One that’s allergic to dogs. I’m never around them, because of my allergy, so I don’t know how to deal with them,” he replied and then took off his backpack to fish something out. Beatrice looked at the small and unfamiliar device he held in his hand. “It’s an inhaler. It’ll make my time with _George_ bearable,” he answered her unasked question.

Then as if hearing Wirt say his name, George came running out of the forest, his eyes locking with Beatrice’s. He pounced and forced her to the ground with a thud. “Ouch, you dumb dog,” she complained as his large tongue began lapping her face. “You’re so gross.”

As he had mentioned, Wirt wasn’t familiar with dogs and even if Beatrice was well aware that George was only playing, her boyfriend didn’t. “Bad dog, George. Bad dog! Get off of, um … her …” She heard him say, but then Wirt gulped loudly as George left Beatrice to attend to the new stranger in his presence. “Uh, Beatrice, uh … a little … a little help … help me!” Wirt panicked.

She pulled herself off the ground and scolded George, who had taken to staring the unfamiliar human down, baring his teeth, and growling. “Stay away from him. Stop it. No!” She stepped in front of Wirt to protect him, but suddenly there wasn’t any need for her defense, because George’s attention shifted away to something else. Beatrice turned her head to look in the direction the dog was staring and gasped when she saw Henry. Her youngest brother was standing near one of the trees, obviously having followed a runaway George.

“Beatrice?” he said in soft surprise, but his voice instantly grew louder as he shouted, “She’s here! Beatrice is here!” Then Henry escaped the distance between them by running to embrace her. “You didn’t come back. You said you’d be right back.”

Beatrice fell on her knees to be at Henry’s level and pulled him in tighter. “I’m sorry. Things got complicated, but I’m back now. I’m back,” she said, while holding onto her little brother. Then Beatrice heard her name again, and looking over Henry’s shoulder, she saw all of her siblings stepping out of the woods.

_Were they searching for me?_

“Hi,” she replied, not sure who the male voice belonged to. All her brothers sounded alike.

“Where have you been? And who is _he_?” Her brother Andrew was only a year younger than her, but somehow he managed to look much older and was now pointing at Wirt accusingly. “Are you the one that took my sister?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beatrice snorted. “Wirt is my-”

“So, you took Beatrice, Wirt? Is that your name?” Andrew rudely spoke over her.

“Yes, I uh …” Wirt stumbled through his words as her brother came up and using his large fists, grasped Wirt’s collar to jerk him closer.

“Yes, you took my sister?” Andrew’s voice was dangerously dark.

“No, no, I’m not, I mean, yes, I’m Wirt. No, Beatrice is-” Wirt’s voice cracked in fear.

“Cut it out, Andrew. Let him go,” Beatrice growled, pushing on his shoulder, but it was like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t feel threatened by her in the least and Beatrice knew she would have to get his attention another way. Removing her glove, she balled her hand and knocked her knuckles hard into Andrew’s nose. Her brother instantly dropped Wirt, no longer using his hands to intimidate, but to protect his face from his sister.

“Ahhh, Beatrice. What’s wrong with you? I’m just trying to protect you,” Andrew replied angrily, his voice muffled through his fingers.

“Protect me from Wirt?” Beatrice asked, coming back to her boyfriend and helping him stand by placing an arm around his back. The green color of his face made her afraid he might faint. “Look at him you idiot. He isn’t capable of kidnapping me and even if he had, why would he bring me back here. Think you meathead.”

“Well, then who is he? And why have you been gone for a week if it wasn’t because of him?”

Beatrice sighed. This wasn’t exactly the scene she had envisioned happening upon returning. She thought there might be trouble for her, but Wirt was never supposed to be in the line of fire. “Well, it’s partly, because of him, but not in the way you’re thinking. Wirt is, well, it’s hard to explain, but the short story is, he didn’t take me. I went to see him. You see, we’re courting and also … I love him.”

Wirt glanced at her, the use of the word love not going unnoticed by him, and the color of his face appeared to return to normal. Her siblings on the other hand made various noises, some of confusion and others of disgust- which were mostly from her younger brothers. But then one sound rose above all the others. It was her mother, walking out of the trees with Beatrice’s father at her side. “Beatrice?” she spoke as if she didn’t believe she was actually there.

“Hello,” she said softly, not knowing what would happen now that they had arrived. Worry filled Beatrice that this would be the beginning of the end. She'd have to say goodbye to Wirt. But all her trepidation was put to rest in an instant when neither scolded her, but instead rushed to pull their daughter into an embrace. It was an action that unfortunately shoved Wirt aside, and caused him to fall to the ground.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Beatrice’s mother apologized, pulling away from Beatrice to help Wirt back up.

“N-no problem,” he replied, brushing dirt from his pants.

Beatrice went to stand by Wirt’s side again and placed an arm around waist and he did likewise. “Mother, Father, I want you to meet Wirt. We’re courting and also … he lives on the other side of the garden wall.”


	22. Chapter 22

Wirt sat at the table alone, staring across it into the next room where Beatrice’s brothers and sisters were gathered. Some of them were seated on the floor near the fireplace, while others took up space on various chairs. They each were involved in different activities, but at that moment, Beatrice wasn’t with them. She had gone to talk with her parents in private and that left Wirt in the very awkward situation of having to spend time with her five brothers and two sisters. After only a few minutes, he had excused himself from the room explaining it was his allergy to dogs and since George followed wherever they went, Wirt’s only option was to be alone.

But being alone was what he really wanted anyway. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wanted to wallow in self-pity over how he failed at life, but particularly, how he had failed Beatrice. He’d told her he could handle going back with her. They’d even argued over it, but Wirt was confident in his ability to stand up to her family, that he would be strong enough to fight for her, and in the end what had he done? He'd nearly fainted while being threatened by her very large brother. Wirt glanced over at that brother who had one of his younger siblings in a headlock. Andrew must have felt the gaze, because his eyes suddenly met Wirt’s and another bout of self-hatred ripped through him at how pathetic it was that he immediately broke the stare out of fear.

Sighing heavily, Wirt shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets and slouched down in the chair. Maybe if he shrunk far enough, Beatrice’s family would forget he was there. But then his hand felt the tiny toy dinosaur Greg had given him and grasping it, Wirt placed it onto the table. “Where was your secret power when I needed it?” he grumbled to the toy.

“Who are you talking to?”

Surprised, Wirt’s eyes flicked up to see Henry joining him at the table. “Uh, no one. Well, myself actually. I guess that’s weird,” he chuckled nervously.

Henry simply shrugged before moving on to another topic. “What’s that? A toy?” Beatrice's brother pointed at the little plastic dinosaur on the table.

“Yeah, it’s my brother’s. He gave it to me to … remind me of him while I was away.” Wirt didn’t tell him the real reason, not wanting to demonstrate the toy’s power when it had none.

“You have a brother?” Henry asked, crawling over a few chairs to be closer to him.

Wirt nodded. “He’s actually near your age. You’d probably get along with him too. From what Beatrice tells me, you like to cause disruptions that involve being very loud.”

“That was just for Beatrice. She needed diversions,” Henry replied straight forwardly, but then his expression changed into one of suspicion. “Beatrice told you about me?”

“Yeah, she did and while she was visiting, Beatrice also mentioned how much she missed you,” Wirt told him.

Skepticism transformed into happiness, but it was only there for a moment before Henry pulled on a very transparent mask of apathy. Beatrice had mentioned how Henry liked to play the tough guy, a result of him having older brothers he had to keep up with. She didn’t think it was the real him though, telling Wirt she could see glimpses of the sweetheart Henry really was underneath.

“Hey, you know what?” Wirt said, and Henry lifted his chin in what appeared to be a move to intimidate. But he was so young the expression hardly looked threatening, and when Wirt peered closely enough he was almost certain it was a face he’d seen Beatrice give him before. “I don’t think my brother would mind if I gave you this,” Wirt continued and pushed the toy dinosaur in Henry’s direction. It was a form of bribery, but Wirt knew being on Henry's good side would mean a lot to Beatrice and however that could be accomplished didn’t matter as long as he made a new friend.

Henry picked up the toy and examined it before balling his fist around the dinosaur. “Do you love Beatrice?” he asked abruptly and Wirt’s eyebrows shot up, the question catching him off guard.

“Uh, yeah. I do,” Wirt replied after a brief pause.

Henry nodded and was quiet for a few seconds as he tapped his chin, like he was thinking deeply about Wirt’s words. “Okay. I guess, Beatrice knows what she’s doing,” he finally said and then hopping down, Henry left to show off his gift to one of his sisters. Wirt laughed to himself while watching him go. He had just been sized up by Beatrice’s younger brother who wasn’t sure Wirt was the right man for his sister. In the end the toy dinosaur had sealed the deal. Wirt would make sure to thank Greg when he got back. The toy ended up being useful to him after all.

As Wirt continued to watch Henry, his eyes caught sight of Andrew again and when Beatrice's brother pulled himself from the chair he’d been sitting in to walk towards him, Wirt’s heart began to race. Beatrice wasn’t there to step in this time and if _this_ brother was coming to size him up as well, Wirt wasn’t sure he would come out of it intact.

“Look, uh …” Andrew said when he reached the table and then pointed at Wirt, like he couldn’t remember his name.

It was a wonder how Andrew could have forgotten his name already. Hadn’t he just been shouting it in his face not so long ago? “My name’s Wirt,” he helped him out to speed up the process of something he knew was going to be unpleasant. The sooner Wirt could get it over with, the better.

“Yeah, Wirt,” Andrew repeated. “I might have ... overreacted before … out there and I wanted to-”

“Andrew! You get the hell away from him.” Beatrice suddenly appeared in the room and stormed over to her brother. She pushed against his chest, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Hey, I was trying to apologize,” Andrew shouted back.

“ _You_ apologize?” Beatrice let out a single hard laugh.

“Yeah, _me_ apologize,” Andrew replied, his temper rising to the surface. Beatrice opened her mouth to retort something back, probably an insult, but her brother spoke before she could. “I’m sorry I threatened you,” he said to Wirt, using a voice that held very little apology and much irritation for his sister. Then he left the room grumbling something under his breath.

Beatrice stared stunned after him. “Well, that’s a first,” she said, turning to Wirt who let out the breath he’d been holding in, relieved his second encounter with Andrew had gone better than anticipated.

“How’d it go with your parents,” Wirt asked, changing the subject. He was anxious to know the outcome.

Beatrice shrugged. “It’s complicated. They want to talk to you, well, really just my mother wants to talk to you, but I told them we needed a moment alone.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Let’s go take a walk outside. I don’t really think we can get any privacy in here.” Her eyes darted towards her brothers and sisters in the other room and Wirt smiled.

“You’re probably right,” he replied and stood, but just as they were about to walk out the front door, Henry tried to tag along.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked anxiously and began to pull his coat on while running towards them.

“Wirt and I are just going for a little walk,” Beatrice told him when he reached the door.

“Can I come?” Henry asked with a slight whine.

Beatrice shook her head and crouched down to his level. “No, I need some alone time with Wirt, but we’ll be right back. I promise.”

“You promised that last time too and then didn’t come back.” Henry frowned and Wirt saw all the bravado Beatrice’s brother had exhibited before disappear into the background of a little boy's anxiety over his sister.

“Last time was different. I have no reason to visit Wirt now, because he’s here with me,” Beatrice explained and hugged her brother. “I needed to see him before, because I was so upset at mother and Aunt Mary and Wirt’s really the only one who understands me.”

“I understand you!” Henry contradicted loudly and Beatrice hushed him.

“Yes, you do. That was stupid of me to not mention that, but Wirt is … he’s older and …”

“You love him?”

“Yeah, that too,” Beatrice agreed.

“Are you and mother okay now?” Henry asked as Beatrice finally released him from her hug.

“I think so.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Aunt Mary, because when mother found out you were gone, she blamed her for running you off. Yelled a lot too and they all left the next day,” Henry said.

Beatrice softly chuckled. “Serves her right, that dumb cow!” Her tone was indignant as she stood and then playfully, she pushed her fist against Henry’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Henry still appeared worried, but it looked like he was able to shake that emotion off enough to begrudgingly say, “Okay.” But when he added, “Are you two going outside to kiss?” his voice was full of distaste. Beatrice’s glanced at Wirt and they both laughed at her brother’s question. Henry wasn’t so different from Greg.

“Probably,” Beatrice teased and her brother made a gagging noise as he slammed the door on them.

They laughed again and then reaching for her hand, Wirt laced his fingers with Beatrice's as they began their slow stroll around her house. But as they walked, he couldn’t stop a slow building panic from forming inside him or keep it from whispering in his ear that Beatrice’s parents were still sending her away. To an anxiety ridden Wirt, it was the only plausible reason she would want to get him alone. She was going to dump him.

“Sooo, you, uh, changed your clothes?” he asked, fishing for a conversation starter after she'd remained quiet for a few minutes. 

Beatrice glanced down at the dress she was now wearing and then up again. “Yeah, the leggings were making my mother uncomfortable. Different set of rules for ladies over here.” She grimaced.

“Um, so what about finishing school? Are they still sending you?” It was the next logical question for him to ask. He needed to know.

_Are you going to tell me goodbye?_

Wirt anxiously waited for her reply and when Beatrice shook her head, he expelled a soft sigh. “Then why don’t you seem happy? Isn’t that the reason we came back?” Wirt was perplexed at her indifference.

“Because I’m more concerned with how you’re doing after what happened with Andrew. I’m so embarrassed he did that. It's not exactly the way I hoped you meeting my family would go.”

It wasn’t a reaction Wirt had expected from Beatrice. Wallowing in misery over his shortcomings as a boyfriend had pushed him into expecting some sort of _I told you so_ from her when the conversation eventually turned to what had happened with her brother. Instead she was throwing a different temperament his way, one that was filled with concern. But Why? “How am I doing? I should be the one asking _you_ that. Who cares how I’m doing.”

Beatrice stopped walking and jerked back on his hand when he continued to move forward. Wirt stumbled a bit, but turned to face her. “I care,” she stated firmly. “My brother threatened your life and I know how it’s not easy for you to-”

“Stick up for myself,” Wirt finished her sentence before she could, his voice bitter.

“You make it sound so bad,” Beatrice said.

“Well, isn’t it? The weak nerd who can’t even protect his girlfriend. Watch him as he nearly faints instead of defending her.” His words were drenched in angry sarcasm.

“Wirt, I’m not a princess in a tower that needs to be rescued and Andrew was never a threat to me. Stop being so dramatic." She snorted.

The way Beatrice made light of the situation, irritated Wirt. He wanted what he’d expected. He wanted disappointment. But it was clear to him now that she had expected him to be weak. “I told you I could stand up to your family and instead I did the opposite, but I guess you always expected that. You were right to think I wasn’t up to coming back with you.”

Beatrice sighed. Then reaching up she cupped his cheeks with her hands, squished them together and brought her face in. “Stooooop,” she said in one long drawn out groan. Wirt rolled his eyes and she laughed at his annoyed reaction. Then letting his face go, Beatrice continued, “I didn’t need you to stand up to my family. That was always going to be my job. The difference you made was that I was able to face them at all. I was only able to do that, because you were there with me.”

“What do you mean?”

Beatrice moved her body in closer and wound her arms around his middle. “Look, it’s not exactly a secret that we’re opposites. I quickly lose my temper and you can usually see things clearly enough not to get angry. I’m able to fight, while you’re a good support system for those around you. You did exactly what you’re good at. You supported me. You came back with me and in the end that’s all I really needed.”

“So, I’m relegated to being your cheer section?” Wirt almost sneered.

“Is that really so bad? Look, you were able to calm me down, even though I know you were ready to panic back at the wall? But, you didn’t let my anxiety get the best of me. You supported me through my meltdown. You took care of me. I need you to do that for me. So what if my brother intimidated you. He intimidates everyone. And it’s not like you aren’t capable to stepping in when you can. It’s just harder for you than some. I don’t hold it against you and honestly … it’s a big part of why I love you.” Beatrice rested her head against Wirt’s shoulder, and he finally let in, wrapping his arms around her. “Only you could get me to say the world love, or any of this dumb emotional stuff. Your softness levels out my rough edges.” Beatrice lifted her head again, and looked Wirt in the eye. “There. Was that poetic enough for you? Do you see now how much of a romantic sap you’ve made me? It’s disgusting.” She scrunched up her nose and Wirt chuckled.

“So, if you’re the one doing the fighting in this relationship does that make you my knight in shining armor?” Wirt joked.

“Something like that.”

Beatrice's answer had a little too much honesty in it for his tastes, but Wirt shrugged off her dig and pressed his lips against hers. Their kiss lasted long enough that Wirt’s hands ultimately found their way into Beatrice’s hair, an action that caused her to groan when he caught on a tangle. “Sorry,” he muttered against her mouth and pulled away, his face contrite. “Um, didn’t I make that mistake before?”

“That’s okay,” she replied. “Maybe I need to start wearing it up again to keep these things from happening.”

“Noooo,” Wirt impulsively complained and reaching up, he touched the red strands again, but then thinking better of his reaction, Wirt backtracked. “I mean, uh, it’s your choice, of course.”

Beatrice giggled. “Well, you know, the only reason I wear it down is because of that compliment you gave me that day in your house. Afterward, I knew exactly how I was going to reel you in with my attractiveness,” she teased.

“Well, it worked,” Wirt smiled and leaned in for another kiss, but Beatrice glided her lips away from his. “We should go back inside before someone comes out looking for us. I’d rather they not find us out here kissing. Plus you know, my mother wants to talk with you.”

“Do you have any idea why she wants to talk with me?” Wirt asked, nervousness pushing away the contentment left over from their kiss.

“Maybe to thank you?” Beatrice guessed. “I told my parents how you took care of me after I twisted my wrist and ankle.”

If that’s all it was then Wirt thought he could handle meeting with her.

“Or maybe it has to do with the girl who crossed over the wall from your side. I told her the story. She didn’t say anything, but who knows,” Beatrice said as they began to walk back towards the entrance of her home.

“Hmmm, maybe we’ll finally get some answers on that one then,” Wirt replied.


	23. Chapter 23

Living in such a full house usually meant there was very little privacy to be had. Because of this, Beatrice was convinced that some of her brothers and sisters had spied on her kissing Wirt outside. She prepared herself after walking through the door by pulling her hand from Wirt’s and balling it into a fist, ready to fight back if any of them decided to tease. Surprisingly though, they kept quiet as Wirt helped Beatrice remove her coat, and when she caught sight of her mother standing near the entrance of the parlor, Beatrice knew why everyone was being abnormally tight lipped. After she had been told of Andrew’s antics, Beatrice’s mother had given her son a good smack on the back of the head and it was something none of the others wanted for themselves. “Wirt is our guest,” she told them. “And he will be treated as such.”

But when her eyes met her mother’s, and the older woman motioned them forward, Beatrice was suddenly reminded of the unintentional love bite left over from her date with Wirt the night before. Quickly she glanced at her boyfriend’s neck and felt relief wash over her after seeing that his shirt collar was still sticking up. She would have to make it her goal to see that his collar stayed that way throughout his visit. After finally mending her relationship with her mother, Beatrice didn’t want to start off the new path they had forged by getting a lecture on how inappropriate it was for a young woman to be kissing a boy’s neck. She was well aware that most of the things her and Wirt had done together over on his side, wouldn’t have been considered proper where she was from, or more importantly, in her mother’s eyes.

“I wanted to again apologize for the way you were treated before,” her mother said when Beatrice and Wirt finally arrived at the parlor entrance. She had been speaking to Wirt, but her eyes were on a nearby Andrew who shrank under the reproachful look his mother sent him. “But, I do hope the rest of your visit here will be less taxing,” she said, turning her attention back to Wirt and gesturing towards the parlor. “Would you care to come sit down?”

Wirt nodded. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he replied, and Beatrice felt him taking her hand once more, only this time his grip was tight. Knowing her boyfriend as well as she did, she could sense the panic he was trying fight. Gently, Beatrice reassuringly squeezed his hand. It was now her turn to support him, but she honestly didn’t think Wirt had anything to worry about. Her mother’s remorse for trying to send her eldest daughter to finishing school had been deep and when she expressed her regret with tears, Beatrice had done a very uncharacteristic thing and cried along with her. So, it wouldn’t make sense for Wirt to be brought in to speak with her mother only to have it end badly for them. She didn’t think her mother would be so heartless.

Once the parlor doors were closed, and her mother sat down at the table with them, Beatrice glanced around and felt a slight sense of deja vu. Everything was similar to the last time she had been there ... the same day she had crossed over to Wirt’s. The tea set in use was the one that had been there with her aunt and cousin, with its sterling silver cups covered in a floral pattern that stretched all the way around and matching teapot placed in the center of the table. Beatrice’s mother picked up that pot and went to fill Wirt’s cup, asking, “Tea?”

But he declined by stuttering, “Uh, n-no thank you. I d-don’t like tea.”

The pot was placed back down and a smirk pulled at the older woman’s lips. “I suppose a teenager such as yourself would most likely prefer a soda.”

“N-no, I uh, actually would just like a water. That is if you have any." Wirt paused and his brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but did you say soda? Is that something you have over here?” He glanced at Beatrice, but she only shrugged her shoulders. The drink soda wasn’t one she was familiar with.

Beatrice’s mother shook her head. “No, we don’t, but I must admit I do miss it.”

“What do you mean you miss soda? What is soda?” Beatrice asked, confused as to what her mother and Wirt were talking about.

“It’s a drink or uh, carbonated beverage that ... well, it’s that drink Sara has a lot of, the dark one with the bubbles,” Wirt answered.

An image filled Beatrice’s head of the small red cans Sara drank from occasionally. At one point, her friend had even tried to coerce her into sampling one, something that had resulted in the dark liquid being spit all over Sara’s kitchen floor. Needless to say, Beatrice hadn’t liked what she had tasted. But her mother? How would she know?

It didn’t take long for all the clues to work their way together into a completed puzzle inside her mind and Beatrice’s eyes widened as the shock of the answer ran through her. “Mother! You’ve been to Wirt’s side? But … how? When?” Beatrice asked, but then surprise abruptly transformed into irritation and she scoffed. “Oh, you’re such a hypocrite, always telling me not to go to the wall, because it’s magic. But you went there! You went over!” Then just as quickly as her temper flared, Beatrice reeled it in, recognizing how rude she was being. “I’m sorry. That was ... that came out wrong. But really, Mother! How could you!” Beatrice’s mercurial emotions had pushed her back into anger, complete with furrowed brows and accusing tone.

Thankfully, her mother took it all in stride as she settled back into her seat and slowly poured herself some tea. “Beatrice, I’m sorry I never told you this before now, but honestly, I’ve never told anyone. Not since I first came here when I was eight. No one believed me then and even if magic exists here, I was still looked at like I was quite mad when I told others I was from a different world than theirs.” Beatrice’s mother paused for a moment to take a sip of her tea and when her cup clinked back into its saucer, she continued. “My first home was not this world, but the one your friend comes from.”

“You were the girl … the one that went missing from my side 30 years ago,” Wirt said, and Beatrice’s mother nodded.

“I can’t be sure, but from what Beatrice has told me, I would have to say it is very likely,” she replied.

“If you’re not from here, then what about Aunt Mary, or Grandmother and Grandfather? Who are they to you? Who are they to me?” Beatrice asked, feeling somewhat light headed and to help steady herself, she leaned on Wirt for support. He in turn removed his hand from hers and reached around to pull her in closer.

“My parents were a kindly couple who took pity on what they saw as an abandoned young girl, but actually I was only lost and unable to find my way back home,” her mother replied with a hint of sadness shrouding her blue eyes. “But of course, they never treated me like I wasn’t a part of their family. Well, Mary did occasionally, and there were times when I let her lies influence me … that I was never good enough. I’m sorry, Beatrice, that I let her opinion of me influence my opinion of you.” She reached across the table to grasp her daughter’s hand that had been idling on her teacup ever since the truth had been revealed.

“But didn’t you ever try to climb back home?” Beatrice asked, to which her mother let out a laugh shaded in sadness.

“Oh, I did try. Many times after realizing I had become trapped,” she replied, taking another sip of her tea before continuing. “You see, I was at my grandfather’s burial and desperately wanted to get away from the sadness all around me. I ran from my parents, who were too occupied to notice, and when I saw the wall, I decided to climb. I was only going to sit atop it, but when I reached the top, I noticed the scenery was different on the other side. I came down to investigate and when I tried to go home, I couldn’t. I tried for days until your grandmother and father found me.”

Her mother paused for a moment, and it appeared that she was trying to keep her sadness from taking too great of a hold of her. After clearing her throat a few times, she was finally able to speak again. “It was all very ironic when I married your father and we moved back here. I admit that at 21 I did climb the wall again and still nothing. I suppose by that point, my life here had already been set in stone. I was married and with child,” she paused once more with a faraway look in her eyes before her focus settled on Beatrice again. “But regardless of what I wasn’t able to accomplish, I always worried that one of my children might make the same mistake I did. Only now I see it wasn’t so much of a mistake for you.” Her mother indicated Wirt with her hand. “I see that not only were you able to come back, but you’ve also found someone to love.”

“Oh, but you were so young, only eight,” Beatrice whispered, realizing for the first time the significance of the age her mother had been. “The same as Henry. How awful that must have been for you.”

“I was fortunate that your grandparents took me in. I can’t imagine, with everything I know about this world now, what I could have stumbled into without their help,” she sighed.

Beatrice glanced at Wirt, knowing exactly what could be _stumbled into_ if you were unfamiliar with her side of the wall. He met her eyes and she could tell he was thinking the same thing. “No one ever mentioned that you were adopted,” Beatrice changed the subject to spare Wirt his memories.

“Why would they? I was never considered anything other than a member of their family, and besides, I threatened to punch Mary if she ever told anyone,” her mother giggled and Beatrice balked, which caused the older woman’s laughter to grow louder. “You and I are not so different, Beatrice.”

“So, why am I always getting punished for defending myself against idiots like Andrew,” Beatrice grumbled.

“Because I eventually grew out of it and I assume you will too,” she replied matter-of-factly and then turned her eyes to Wirt. “Thank you for taking care of Beatrice while she was with you. From what she tells me you two were actually corresponding through letters and tapes long before her trip over the wall.”

From the corner of her eye, Beatrice could see the faint color of red beginning to form on Wirt’s cheek. “Yes, uh, well, we also knew each other beforehand too. You and I have actually met before. In … the, uh, tree.”

“Oh, yes, I do remember. You were the boy looking for his brother. Beatrice told me you both were able to find him. I am glad to hear it,” she smiled.

“So, what do we do?” Beatrice asked, after a short pause in the conversation. “I mean, about us?” She glanced at Wirt. “If you’re not sending me away to finishing school does that mean I’m allowed to continue courting Wirt?”

Beatrice’s mother nodded slowly. “If the wall was willing to grant you access back to your world from his, then I don’t see why not. It must sense, as I do, that you both are in love and I can’t stand in the way of that. You are almost seventeen, Beatrice. Who you choose to be with or marry is not my decision to make.”

“Marry?” Wirt squeaked and Beatrice’s mother laughed.

“Of course, that would be between the two of you and not anytime soon I hope,” she smiled and then changed the subject. “Well now, how about a proper introduction? One that doesn’t involve you being stuck inside a tree with bluebirds or where my son isn’t threatening your life. Since you are the one Beatrice has chosen to be with, I would very much like it if we started over. Would you care to join us for dinner?” Beatrice’s mother asked, but then with a grin added, “I promise I will not be serving dirt.”

Wirt smiled and looked to Beatrice then back to her mother again. “I-I, yes, I would like to stay for dinner.”

* * *

 

Before eating, Beatrice asked permission to show Wirt her room, something her mother had taken a few seconds to answer. She knew it was inappropriate to ask, and never would have if her mother’s backstory hadn’t been told to her, but now that Beatrice was aware, she wanted to see what was possible to get away with, at least things she had seen happen on Wirt’s side. Her mother eventually gave her consent, but only as long as the door was left open and Henry tagged along.

Beatrice agreed to the terms and once in her room, she pulled out the Polaroid camera from under her bed. Then handing it over to Henry, she asked him to take some pictures of her and Wirt together. Beatrice had seen the images of Wirt with Sara taped to his wall- the ones that had made her jealous at first- and now she wanted to give him new ones he could add to that collection. It was important to her that their relationship be represented alongside the other.

“Wow, it’s like a tiny painting!” Henry said when the photo he'd taken shot out of the camera’s end. “Impossible.”

“Even impossible things have a place for existing,” Wirt commented as he grasped Beatrice’s hand and gazed at her meaningfully. A bit of shyness flashed through her body, and she looked away.

“Huh?” Henry said, not getting the meaning behind Wirt’s words.

“It uh … I was referencing my love for Beatrice and hers for me. Our love seems impossible, two different worlds and personalities, but somehow it exists and we make it work,” Wirt explained. “Romeo and Juliet … but without the tragic ending.”

Henry made a face and then rolled his eyes. “Okay, that’s dumb _and_ gross.”

Wirt frowned, but Beatrice laughed. “I don’t know. I thought it was very poetic,” she said, kissing her boyfriend’s cheek.

Henry made a noise of disgust, then left the room and this time Wirt laughed along with Beatrice.

When dinner was finally finished and Wirt’s day with Beatrice’s family was over, she walked back with him to the wall in a happy daze that was also mixed with melancholy. The path they had chosen would not make their relationship easy and it would always be plagued with the question, _what if one of us gets trapped on the other side._ “Do you think I’m worth the possibility that you might have to stay here if for some reason the magic doesn’t work for you, like what happened with my mother?” Beatrice asked when they reached the wall.

“Do you think _I’m_ worth it?” Wirt replied.

“Of course,” Beatrice said without hesitation.

“You know I feel the same way, so why are you asking?” he sighed deeply.

Beatrice shrugged and Wirt pulled her into his arms. He gave her a soft kiss, but kept his hold on her for a long while. Neither said anything, they just embraced like it was their last, which was how they would have to treat every goodbye as long as the wall separated them. “Write me a letter and leave it by the wall, so I can have something from you tomorrow," Beatrice said, breaking the silence.

“Not a tape?” Wirt asked.

“No, that would take too long. Write me something as soon as you reach your side.” Beatrice knew in his large backpack full of things, there had to be a pen and paper.

“Okay,” he replied, stroking her hair several times. "Hey, look, I'm getting better. I didn't catching any tangles this time," he joked and Beatrice could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. She softly laughed in response.

Eventually they were forced to separate by the setting sun. Beatrice’s mother had wanted her back before it grew too dark outside. “I love you,” he said, looking into her eyes and Beatrice repeated the sentiment, then watched as he began to climb the wall.

When he reached the top, Wirt turned to give her one last look and said goodbye. Beatrice pushed against her sadness long enough to tease, “See you around, nerd,” and Wirt chuckled. Then he was gone.

Beatrice stood in the same spot staring at the last place she had seen Wirt for longer than she should have. It grew dark enough outside that the moon shone brightly above her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wall. Then just as she was about to leave, her vision fell on a piece of a paper on the ground that hadn’t been there before. Beatrice reached for it and opened the folded paper. Inside was a message from Wirt and the words he had written mirrored her first letter to him.

_Dear Beatrice,_

_I miss you already._

_Love, Wirt._


	24. Epilogue

After a while, Wirt and Beatrice found a sort of rhythm to their unconventional relationship. During the week they usually exchanged tapes and letters, while weekends were reserved for alternating between worlds. Beatrice was allowed to stay on Wirt’s side under the presumption she would be spending her nights at Sara’s and Wirt would occasionally sleep out in Beatrice’s barn due to his dog allergy. Since Wirt had yet to tell his parents the truth about his girlfriend, he usually couldn’t stay the night every time he visited her world. On those weekends, Wirt would venture home after a day on her side only to come back the next morning.

Eventually, Beatrice even became a part of his circle of friends with Sara. No one questioned the story about his relationship with her, of them meeting on the internet and her living far enough away that she had to stay with Sara when she visited. Beatrice was simply accepted into the fold as was Wirt into her family. And much to Wirt’s amusement, even Beatrice thought Jason Funderberker was kind of a tool.

Wirt never really discussed with Beatrice what would happen in the future and the choices that would have to be made as they grew older. For now they were just two teenagers enjoying the experience of first love and thankful that the wall never ceased to work for them. Wirt didn’t like to think about the chance that one day he might wake up and the doorway into her world would be closed, but sometimes it kept him up at night.

On the evening of Beatrice’s 17th birthday, Wirt presented her with tickets to a concert of a musician Sara had introduced her to … the kind of music that Wirt loathed. She on the other hand gave him a gift too. It was an old present, one he remembered, but at the same time, the envelope had left the forefront of his mind in the months since he’d first seen it. “Your letter of poetry?” Wirt asked.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to give it to you.” Three months, in fact.

“But it’s _your_ birthday,” Wirt said, sitting beside her in his mom’s van. He’d recently gotten a part-time job in the hopes of saving up enough money, so his dates with Beatrice wouldn't be embarrassed by his mode of transportation. He’d gone to the cemetery to pick Beatrice up and they were now in its parking lot.  

“I don’t know why I felt like giving it to you tonight. Maybe it’s a maturity thing. I am 17 now after all,” she said, affecting the accent of someone poised a proper.

Wirt pulled the letter out and scanned over the portion he’d already gone through, before reading Beatrice’s poem. It was short and sweet with words that hinted at the feelings Wirt knew would eventually turn out to be love. It certainly wasn’t Keates or Frost, or even anything he’d ever written, but Wirt would never tell her that. Her ability to write poetry wasn’t the reason why he loved her. “Why haven’t you said anything?” Beatrice asked. “You should have finished it by now. I knew it. You hate it.” A frown formed on her lips.

“Calm down. I think it’s fine, and the fact you wrote it for me makes it perfect in my eyes,” Wirt reassured her.

“Oh, okay.” Beatrice's voice was sarcastic as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

Wirt tried not to laugh at her response. “Is this the maturity of a 17 year old you mentioned?” he asked. “Because I gotta say I can totally see it.”

Beatrice turned back to face him and stuck her tongue out, but broke character with a giggle. “Sorry. Guess I’m one of those oversensitive writer types.”

“Look.” Wirt pulled out his wallet and opened it for Beatrice to see. “I’m going to put this in here and take it out to read whenever I’m missing you, which will probably be whenever you’re not with me.”

“Well, just make sure no one sees it. It’s for your eyes only,” she sternly warned.

“What? You don’t want Funderberker to read this?” Wirt joked and Beatrice narrowed her eyes.

“Ugh. Funderberker.” Her tone was less than friendly and Wirt chuckled.

“See. How can we not be meant for each other? We have a common enemy.” They shared a laugh and then Wirt reached out to touch the side of Beatrice’s face. She smiled and brought her own hand up to cover his. “Happy birthday, Beatrice.”

“Thanks,” she replied and they both leaned in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed what I've written, please leave a little comment letting me know. It encourages me to write more. Thanks for reading and hopefully you'll check out some of my other stories set in the IYLPP universe.


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